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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ON TWO CONTINENTS 




BAYARD TAYLOR 

1877 



On Two Continents 

Memories of Half a Century 



MARIE HANSEN TAYLOR 

With the Co-operation of 
LILIAN BAYARD TAYLOR KILIANI 



Illustrated from Contemporary Portraits and Paintings 
by 'Bayard Taylor 




New York 

Doubleday, Page & Company 

1905 



TH£ LIBRARY #1 

CONGRESS, 
Onf Copv RecEi^r 

ijCLASK A xXo. No. 

/ 2 6> 3 & c 

COf»Y B. 



Copyright, 1905, by 
Doubleday, Page & Company 

Published, October, 1905 J r~> 



TSzlfe 



All rights reserved, 

including that of translation into foreign languages, 

including the Scandinavian 









MOTTO 

" fait altm Xtitm legtm 0ic|) mir toarm 
an'0 ^tth ttnti aiu Etfbe, &e&n0tsc|jt tmti 
Zu'attgitfit ttiiillttn mtcf) 0a, oagg bte 
(Begentoart sans toetoecfct toat." 

— Varnhagen von Ense 



1 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Chapter I — On the Seeberg 

The Gotha Observatory — Peter Andreas Hansen 
and His Wife — Hansen's Scientific Accomplish- 
ments — His Knowledge of Languages and Music 
— Life at the Observatory — Development of Liter- 
ary Taste — To School in the City ... 3 

Chapter II — From the Seeberg to Town 

The Hansen Family Moves to Gotha — The Educa- 
tion of a German Girl in the Early Nineteenth 
Century — Excellence of the Theatre — New Scientific 
Triumphs of Herr Hansen — Professor Newcomb's 
Opinion of Them — Mrs. Emil Braun — Her Acquaint- 
ance with Famous English Men and Women — Frau 
Hansen's Brother-in-law Meets Bayard Taylor in 
Egypt — Taylor's First Visit to Gotha . . .16 

Chapter III — In Rome 

Visit to the Brauns at Rome — First Impression of 
the Eternal City — Mrs. Browning's Description 
of Emil Braun — Theodore de Witt — Intellectual 
Growth in Rome — Antique Sculpture — Meeting 
with Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning — 
Prince Friedrich Wilhelm (Emperor Frederick) — 
A Summer in the Apennines — Second Winter in 
Rome ......... 26 

Chapter IV — Return to Gotha 

Removal of the Observatory to the City — Hansen 
and Gauss — Taylor's Second Visit to Gotha in 1856 

vii 



viii CONTENTS— Continued 

FAGS 

— His Appearance — Trip to England — Taylor's 
Growing Fame — Engagement of Marie Hansen 
and Bayard Taylor — Comic German Verses by 
Taylor — The Wedding — Leaving the Old Home — 
Again in London — Meeting with Thackeray — On 
the Way to Greece — Taylor's Travels in Greece — 
His Letters — Birth of a Daughter .... 39 

Chapter V — Outre Mer 

Arrival in New York — Dana, Putnam, Mr. and 
Mrs. R. H. Stoddard — Trip to Taylor's Home, 
Kennett Square — Meeting with the Quaker Family 
— Taylor's Ancestors — Acquiring Land — Prepara- 
tions to Lecture — George William Curtis — Removal 
to Brooklyn — Common Life of the Taylors and 
Stoddards— Letters from Taylor on His Lecturing 
Tour — In the Ohio Forest — At St. Paul — Return 
to the Farm at Kennett Square — Building the 
House — Lecturing Again — To San Francisco — Ex- 
periences in California — Once More in New York — 
Its Literary Circles — Boker, Aldrich and Stedman— 
The Warner and Carey Sisters — Horace Greeley — 
Bryant — Taylor Still Lectures — Notes from the 
Lecture Field 58 

Chapter VI — The New Homestead 

Appearance and Location of "Cedarcroft" — -Family 
and Visitors — The Quaker Neighbours — The Status 
of Woman Among Them — Perished Types . . 86 

Chapter VII — War Time 

Rumours of Coming Conflict — Election of Lincoln 
— In New York — Lecturing to Pay for " Cedarcroft " 
— The Firing on Sumter — Progress of the War — 
— Supposed Danger to " Cedarcroft " — A Visit to the 
Fatherland — The Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Coburg- 



CONTENTS— Continued ix 

PAG* 

Gotha Entertain Taylor — Return to America — 
Visitors at "Cedar croft" — War Scenes — New Lec- 
tures — War Correspondence for the Tribune — 
Taylor's Appointment as Secretary of the Legation 
at St. Petersburg ....... 94 

Chapter VIII — The St. Petersburg Episode 

In the Far North — Society in the Russian Capital — 
Journeys in the Empire — Novgorod and Moscow — 
A Russian Dinner — Taylor Becomes Charge d'- 
Aff aires — The Diplomatic Corps — Lord Napier, 
Baron Gevers, Count Golz — Taylor and Russian 
Confidence in the North's Victory — Christmas and 
New Year — The Emperor's Reception — The Tay- 
lors at Court — Society and Gossip — Plans for the 
Future — Farewell to Russia . . . . .120 

Chapter IX — Three Prolific Years 

Lecturing and Novel Writing — The " Echo Club " — 
American Painters — "The Picture of St. John" — 
Improving "Cedarcroft" — The Winter of 1865 
in New York — Taylor's Fortieth Birthday — Assas- 
sination of Lincoln — Guests at "Cedarcroft" — 
Boker, McEntees, Mr. Stedman — The "Story of 
Kennett" — Lecturing in the West — Beginning of 
the "Faust" Translation — Letters from the West 145 

Chapter X — In Europe 

A Week in England — "Barry Cornwall" — Mr. 
Swinburne Reading His Poems — From Gotha to 
Geneva — Taylor's Letters from the Pyrenees, 
Majorca, Barcelona, etc. — In Germany — Gustav 
Freytag — A Picnic in the Thuringian Forest — 
Venice — Florence — Naples — Sorrento — Rome — In- 
fluence of Rome on Literary Work — Corsica — The 
Old Home — New Poems and Studies . . . 173 



x CONTENTS— Continued 

FAGI 

Chapter XI — The Translation of "Faust" 

Winter at "Cedarcroft " — Rendering the " Walpurgis 
Night," the "Intermezzo"— "Faust," Part II— 
"Home Pastorals" — Their Form — Lecturing Anew 
— Letters from Utah — Failure of San Francisco 
Lectures — News of Sedan — Final Completion of 
" Faust " — Plan of a Combined Biography of Goethe 
and Schiller — Sale of the "Faust" Translation — 
The Burden of " Cedarcroft "—" The Masque of the 
Gods" .' 198 

Chapter XII — In the Old World Again 

Gotha — Berthold Auerbach — Travelling in Goethe's 
Country — The Italian Lakes — German Appreciation 
of Taylor — "Lars" — Death of Horace Greeley — 
Failure of Income from the Tribune — Viennese Cor- 
respondence for the Tribune — New Poems — Letters 
from Weimar — Egypt — Italy — Death of Hansen — ■ 
Back to America . . . . . . .223 

Chapter XIII — Sunset 

Admirers at Home — Lecturing in the West — 
Meeting with Sidney Lanier — Struggling with 
Narrow Means — "Prince Deukalion" — In the 
Tribune Office— The "Centennial Ode"— Toiling 
in Summer — Gradual Wearing Out of Taylor's 
Strength — Resting in Sulphur Springs — New Liter- 
ary Labours — Taylor's Appointment as Ambassador 
to Germany — At Berlin — Letters from Berlin — Visit 
of General and Mrs. Grant to Berlin — Bismarck 
and Grant — Last Letters — A Royal Wedding — 
Failure of Taylor's Health— The "Epicidium" Ode 
—Taylor's Death. 254 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Bayard Taylor (1877) 

Peter Andreas Hansen . 

The Ducal Observatory at Gotha 

Bayard Taylor (1864) 

" Cedarcroft " .... 

Goethe's Garden House at Weimar 

Sidney Lanier (1875) 

Emperor William I. and Prince Bismarck 



Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 



39 
94 
152 
238 
258 
280 



x/ 



ON TWO CONTINENTS 



CHAPTER I 

On the Seeberg 

My childhood belongs to a bygone time. In those 
days the power of steam had hardly been put to the test ; 
the electric spark had produced none of its wonders. In 
the evening people sat by a tallow candle, which was 
ignited with a paper lighter, and no household was with- 
out its flint and steel as well as its punk or tinder for 
starting the fire. The snuffers, on their metal stand, 
lay beside the candle — and not for show alone. Goethe 
had even sighed in rhyme: 

"Who, forsooth, could make a better invention 
Than a candle that burns without snuffers' attention ! " 

So primitive was life then in contrast with the present, 
when we suffer under the high pressure of a highly com- 
plex existence, that, for instance, on the occasion of a 
visit which my father paid to the wife of the Cabinet 
Minister, he found that very aristocratic lady knitting a 
stocking by the light of a single tallow candle. Combined 
with this simplicity of living, people were generally en- 
dowed with a singleness of heart which was more esteemed 
than material wealth, and a spirit of economy which 
benefited the ensuing generation. 

But it is not in order to describe these times that I write 
my reminiscences ; it is rather because early in life I came 
in contact with eminent and distinguished people, of 
whom I feel impelled to give an account. 

3 



4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

I was born on the hill called the Seeberg, distant one 
hour (about three miles) from the town of Gotha. While 
digging in the sand and building clay houses, we children 
often found fossil shells, so that the name of the mountain 
seemed to be justified. And yet the house in which we 
lived should have been christened the Windcastle, for all 
the year it was exposed to the blasts that blow from every 
point of the compass. The bare summit rose solitary 
out of the plain, crowned by the Ducal Observatory, to 
which was joined at right angles the less pretentious 
dwelling house. My father, Peter Andreas Hansen, a 
native of Tondern in northern Schleswig-Holstein, was 
a successor of von Zach, Lindenau and Encke, as Director 
of the Observatory, and my mother was descended from 
a long line of huntsmen, who until the beginning of the 
nineteenth century had lived in an idyllic sylvan retreat 
at the foot of Castle Scharfenstein, the ancestral seat of 
the Barons of the Empire von Uetterot. My mother's 
slender figure and finely cut features, however, bore no 
resemblance to the Nimrods of her race, and her clear 
intelligence made her a fit companion for that man of 
stern science, my father. 

My mother was considerably younger than her husband, 
and had been an attractive beauty in her youth. Beside 
her the stately figure of my father was doubly con- 
spicuous. His deep blue eyes, delicate but wide nostrils, 
and broad, well-modelled brow — framed in a luxuriant 
growth of hair which had early lost its chestnut hue 
and surrounded his head with a silver halo — gave the 
impression of a man of unusually strong intellect and 
character. His figure was well knit and broad shouldered, 
of more than middle stature ; his fair skin was so fine and 



ON THE SEEBERG 5 

delicate that many a lady might have envied it, and 
his small hands were beautifully shaped. Living as he 
did, entirely for his science, it is probable that my mother, 
who was married to him in her sixteenth year, had to go 
through some serious schooling before she learned to con- 
form to the fixed peculiarities of the husband, who was 
fifteen years her senior. A characteristic anecdote of 
the early years of their married life was related to me 
long afterward by an aged friend. My parents attended 
a ball of the " Mohrengesellschaft," or "Society of the 
Moor," so called from the hostelry of that name, in which 
its reunions were held. My mother wore her wedding 
gown of white satin and a wreath of forget-me-nots in 
her light brown hair (a costume singularly becoming to 
her delicate beauty). In the course of the evening she 
suddenly missed her husband; she sought and ques- 
tioned in vain — he had disappeared. Frantic with ex- 
citement and fear she ran alone, in her white satin 
slippers, the long way from the town up to the top of 
the Seeberg, where she found my father seated at his 
desk, buried in the solution of a mathematical problem. 
A, sudden idea which had struck him while in the midst 
of the dancing throng had driven from his mind all 
thought of the existence of his young wife, and he had 
rushed headlong home to fix this idea on paper. 

My father owed his education entirely to his own 
exertions. His parents, of Danish extraction, were 
simple, honest burghers. His father followed the trade 
of a gold- and silver-smith, which yielded him a meagre 
profit. His only son was therefore obliged to be satis- 
fied with the acquirements which a common school 
could furnish. Nevertheless, the youth's evident talent 



6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

for mathematics, which showed itself even in his boy- 
hood, attracted the attention of a friendly neighbour, a 
physician who had a penchant for this special science. 
Many years later my father told me that this benevolent 
man during his school life lent him from an excellent 
library instructive books, especially those on mathe- 
matical subjects, so that he was able to extend his frag- 
mentary knowledge, and to fill out the gaps in a desultory 
school education. The persistent industry which he 
maintained throughout his entire life, joined to an ardent 
thirst for knowledge, enabled him to overcome all the 
obstacles which arose in his path, and finally to enjoy 
high honours. 

Besides his genius for exact science, my father pos- 
sessed a remarkable talent for languages and music. 
Without the help of a teacher he acquired a knowledge 
of French and Latin, and later published treatises in these 
languages. Speaking Danish and German equally well 
from childhood, he also spoke and read Swedish, could 
make himself understood in English, and had some 
knowledge of Greek. Music was a delight and pleasure 
to him during his whole life. In this accomplishment 
also he never had instruction. In his youth he played 
the organ in the church, attempted the violin, and played 
on the piano. He executed only classical masterpieces, 
and read music with ease. But the crowning quality of 
his nature was his absolutely honourable character, to 
which any insincerity or meanness was abhorrent. The 
demands which he made upon himself in this respect he 
made equally on others, and when he found himself 
deceived he could with difficulty be dissuaded from harsh 
judgment. Entirely wrapped up in his scientific pursuits, 




PETER ANDREAS HANSEN 
Father of Mrs. Bayard Taylor 



ON THE SEEBERG 7 

he maintained only the necessary relations with the 
world at large, and appeared stern and unapproachable 
to those who did not know him well. Even to those who 
were more nearly connected with him he remained in 
part reserved and uncomprehended, for he revealed him- 
self only to a few. These few, however, who looked into 
his soul discovered there a deep well-spring of feeling, 
and have never been able to forget with what elementary 
force it throbbed and heaved. 

It has always been an enigma to me whence was derived 
the patrician quality in his nature, which manifested 
itself also in his outward appearance. It could hardly 
have had its origin in the small middle-class surroundings 
in which he grew up, but must have been placed in his 
cradle as the gift of a beneficent fairy — or it was an in- 
heritance from his ancestors, of whom he knew absolutely 
nothing. He was fond of jestingly tracing his descent 
from a certain anchorsmith, Matz Hansen, who at the 
court of the King of Denmark once drank a Russian 
boyar under the table, as is amusingly related by Oehlen- 
schlager, in his "Islands in the South Sea." The for- 
mer's tough, robust nature was also characteristic of my 
father, but in his mastery of the art of drinking the 
resemblance ceased. 

Art was foreign to my father's comprehension, and his 
undivided pursuit of science left him little time to occupy 
himself with literature. In spite of this he was not 
unacquainted with literary productions. He had a 
pronounced predilection for certain masterpieces, to 
which he remained true to the end of his life. Thus, the 
" Saga of Frithiof " was an especial favourite, and I remem- 
ber vividly how in later times, when he was obliged to 



8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

take more rest, he turned again to this heroic epos and 
read it aloud to me in the original, moved by delight in 
its rythmical and intrinsic beauties, from time to time 
appealing to me, who, as he knew, understood no Swedish, 
with the exclamation: " Isn't it beautiful ! " At another 
time he was enthusiastic over Horace's Odes. One 
beautiful summer evening, when he was an aged man, 
and partly blind, my parents, Taylor and myself, together 
with a cousin of my mother and an ardent admirer of 
my husband, were gathered on the vine-covered veranda 
of the new observatory at Gotha, when the conversation 
turned to Horace and the most beautiful of his odes. 
My husband began to quote from memory, Doctor Henne- 
berg, my mother's cousin, followed suit, and animated 
by this my father declaimed ode after ode with an 
enthusiasm which was a revelation: 

My father became Director of the Observatory of Gotha 
in 1825, when Professor Encke, his predecessor, accepted 
a call to Berlin. The observatory on the Seeberg had 
been founded in 1787 by Duke Ernest II., of Gotha- 
Altenburg, an intellectual and enlightened sovereign. He 
was liberal minded, a believer in the constitutions of 
Switzerland and the United States, and he refused, 
in spite of the offer of large sums, to sell his troops to 
England for the suppression of freedom in the colonies. 
In his will he left the sum of 40,000 thalers ($30,000) 
out of his private fortune as an endowment fund for the 
Observatory, and expressed the wish that this scientific 
foundation should remain as his monument. 

The building was originally well planned and stately. 
The observatory proper, built of yellow Seeberg sandstone, 
was the principal structure, flanked on each side by a 



ON THE SEEBERG 9 

rectangular wing. Between them lay an open paved 
courtyard. The left (the eastern) wing, which contained 
only offices and servants' rooms, perhaps also stable 
and carriage house, was no longer in existence at the 
time when my father entered upon his duties as director ; 
only the foundations and the cellar remained. Some 
steps, covered by a trapdoor, led down into the latter. 
In the western wing, in which we lived, my father's 
study communicated with the observatory. High double 
doors led first into a small completely dark passage, 
where on the walls hung loaded guns and pistols, none of 
which was ever put to use. Beyond, a tightly closed door 
divided it from the library, a large, very high room, which, 
however, was much inferior in size to the halls beyond, 
which were devoted to purposes of observation. In the 
latter, where the chilly atmosphere of science pervaded 
everything, and the visitor was awed into walking with 
noiseless tread, the solemn silence was broken only by 
the ticking of astronomical clocks. These spacious 
rooms, with their mysterious instruments, inspired us 
children with fear; the presence of some colossal busts 
of Copernicus, Tycho de Brahe, and others, which had 
at some time or other received a coat of black varnish, 
tended to heighten this impression. The succession 
of rooms was interrupted by the hall — a vestibule 
connected with the principal entrance from the court- 
yard. Behind this was a spiral stairway of stone leading 
to the flat roof, while an immense folding door opened 
into the garden toward the south. On pleasant summer 
afternoons we drank our coffee in this so-called "hall" 
and enjoyed the view of the faint blue chain of the 
Thuringian Mountains and of the castles of the Drei 



io ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Gleichen* rising eastward out of the plain. We children 
experienced a special pleasure then, for three or four 
of us were allowed to sit in the giant armchair that had 
come down to us from the time of Herr von Zach. It 
was far from beautiful, but conspicuous by its sofa-like 
proportions and abnormally high back. 

The rooms of the dwelling house were hardly smaller 
or lower in proportion than those of the observatory; 
this wing consisted of a first floor built over extensive 
cellars, kitchens, etc., and a low-ceiled upper story 
which contained for the most part the living-rooms of 
the janitor. f There was neither spring nor well upon 
the Seeberg. Rain water was collected in immense 
wooden -tubs that stood in the courtyard under the tin 
leaders from the roof. Our drinking water was brought 
daily in two copper kettles, hanging from a shoulder 
yoke, by a man-servant. He carried it from a spring 
situated a mile away in the meadows of the nearest 
village, and up a steep path on the side of the hill. 

The climate on the Seeberg was extremely rigorous 
during the greater part of the year. There were no 
trees in the immediate neighbourhood of the house, 
nor was there any protection against rain or storm. 

*Three isolated conical peaks, each surmounted by a castle, that 
rise abruptly from the plain, some miles south of Gotha. One of the 
castles, the Wachsenburg, is inhabited, the others are in ruins. They 
are celebrated in story as the heritage of the Graf of Gleichen, who 
joined the last Crusade, was captured by the Saracens, and rescued 
from slavery by the Sultan's daughter, who fled with him. In grati- 
tude for her sacrifice of kindred and rank he married her, although he 
had a wife in Germany. On his way home he gained the Pope's 
sanction for this step, and when he returned with the Princess to his 
ancestral castle, and told the story of his escape to the Countess, the 
latter embraced the Saracen wife and vowed to treat her always as 
a sister. The Count was buried in the Cathedral at Erfurt, between 
his two wives, where their skeletons may be seen to this day. 

fThe dwelling house was afterward converted into an inn, which 
was consumed by fire in the winter ic-oo-'oi. 



ON THE SEEBERG n 

Often the blasts roared around the solitary building, so 
that no one dared go outside. I recall a furious storm 
that blew off the flat copper roof of the building and 
carried it down hill into the fields below. Another 
storm lives in my memory — a snowstorm that kept us 
prisoners for several days in the town whither we had 
gone to visit our grandparents. After the snow had 
fallen all day it was not possible to reach the hill either 
afoot or on wheels. Not till the following day could my 
father, with the help of snow shovellers, dig a path 
through the drifts which had formed at the foot of the 
last steep ascent. 

My father's salary, as long as he lived on the Seeberg, 
amounted to 600 thalers ($450) annually, with the addi- 
tion of free lodging, fuel, and light. Even in those days 
of cheap living this was a scanty income for a family; 
but my mother, a woman whose education had taken a 
practical direction, was a very provident and economical 
housekeeper. In later years I was also schooled by her 
in this respect — a circumstance which has been of great 
advantage to me during life. In spite of her delicate 
frame and frequent ill-health, her house and table were 
always well furnished. She possessed the art of improvis- 
ing a savoury dinner with very scant means, and was 
sometimes called upon to exercise this art when strangers, 
usually famous men of science, were guests of my father. 
She had learned fine cooking when a very young girl under 
the direction of the well-known Kiichenmeister* Dietrich, 
in the Court kitchen of the Dowager Duchess Caroline 
Amalie, a favour which was granted to my grandparents 
by the princess. Thus, she was able to prepare most 

*Chef with the title of " Kitchenmaster. " 



12 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

delicious food and pastry, a fact which my father thor- 
oughly appreciated, for, although never a gourmand, he 
did not contemn the pleasures of the table. Whenever 
we had guests the table was set in the Saal, a spacious 
apartment extending up through both stories to the roof, 
with three arched windows toward the west, affording a 
view of the park side of the town, crowned by the castle 
of Friedenstein. South of the Saal was the "blue 
room," the parlour, so called on account of its sky-blue, 
glazed wall paper and curtains partly of white, partly 
of pale-blue mull. A bookcase stood in this room, which 
in very early years began to have a fascination for me. 
It contained a complete edition of Goethe's works, the 
last from his own hand, and one of Schiller's, as well as a 
number of those so-called Taschenbiicher, so popular at 
the time, handsomely bound, finely printed volumes, 
illustrated with good copper-plate engravings and con- 
taining articles of general literary interest. Before we 
left the Seeberg — that is, before I had completed my 
tenth year — I had devoured all the stories in the latter, 
as well as Schiller's dramatic works. Goethe had as yet 
no interest for me. 

I was the oldest child and after me came four brothers 
and two sisters. When I was old enough to go to school 
I went to live with my grandparents in town. For 
vacations and on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, 
when we had no school, I started after lesson hours 
were over, if the weather was fine, and went home to the 
Seeberg. The walk often seemed very long to me; I 
usually went alone and often not without fear. The 
latter half of the way was unfrequented ; only occasionally 
I met a stone-cart coming from the quarries of the Great 



ON THE SEEBERG 13 

Seeberg, and then was terrified by its unprepossessing- 
looking driver. In summer I was sometimes frightened 
by the clouds towering in gigantic masses. It seemed to 
me I could almost touch them; sailing past above me 
they appeared to come nearer and nearer, as if to over- 
whelm and devour me. Arrived at home, the boundless 
liberty of the hill was mine, and I romped at will with my 
brothers, while down in the town, at my old grand- 
parents' home, my life was more sedate. But there were 
pleasures there, too. An old maid-servant told me tales 
and legends, also robber stories, alas ! and in the evening 
sometimes an ancient great-great-aunt, who had often 
seen Goethe in Weimar, sat at my bedside and sang me 
to sleep with the song : 

"Up there on yonder mountain 
I've stood a thousand times." 

My grandmother was a slender dark-haired woman of 
superior intellect, and masculine visitors — old friends of 
the family — were fond of conversing with her. One con- 
versation in particular lives in my memory, which I heard 
her hold with the preacher of a neighbouring village about 
the fortunes of the Saxon-Ernestinian line (the reigning 
Dukes of Thuringia) during the Reformation. I sat un- 
heeded at the window, drinking in every word, and I 
believe that my growing interest in history dated from 
that incident. 

My grandfather was a tall stately man with short, 
curly blond hair and pleasant blue eyes, a huntsman 
like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. 
When a young man he was appointed as Buchsenspanner* 

*The title of an attendant, who was always near the sovereign 
while hunting, and whose duty it was to carry, load and cock his gun. 



* 



i 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

to Duke August,* who later raised him to the dignity 
of Forstmeister (Master of the Preserves), a rank which 
had hitherto been conferred only upon noblemen, and 
kept him in close attendance upon his person while he 
lived. My grandfather's official residence, called the 
Hofjdgerei, was situated on the Jagerstrasse, which led 
from the town park into the open fields. The eight 
buildings which it comprises are all state property, and 
were then used as official lodgings for Court functionaries 
of various degrees. Behind the dwelling house of the 
Hofjdgerei lay a spacious courtyard with outhouses, and 
beyond these extensive gardens with kennels, hay mows, 
and stables. In one of the latter hunting implements 
of all kinds were stored, among other things a silk net 
several yards in length, for catching larks, that had 
been made by some princess of the reigning house. 

After the great ducal hunts in winter, at which my 
grandfather was always present in his green huntsman's 
uniform with a short cutlass at his side, the kill was 
brought the next day into the courtyard of the Hof- 
jdgerei; the carcasses were then skinned and cut up by 
the Forstgehilfen (foresters' apprentices) in a large stone 
vault, which was built for this purpose. A portion of 

*My mother told me many interesting stories of this genial prince, 
whom she had often seen when a child. With his well-known gener- 
osity, he gave a number of valuable gifts to my grandparents, which 
have been handed down as heirlooms in the family. I have in my 
possession, also, a small three-cornered note in the Duke's own hand- 
writing addressed to my grandmother, which reads: 

"A Madame Braun, n6e Henneberg, chez elle. — I hope, my dear 
Braun, that this time you will lay aside your bad habit, and accept 
this small Christmas gift, and wear it. The closets in your house are 
very musty, and such mildew spots can never be removed from light- 
coloured stuffs. Trust this time in my good advice. 

"Your well wishing 

"Emile." 

Above the wafer with which the note is sealed, the letter "A" is 
embossed upon the paper. 



ON THE SEEBERG 15 

the venison was delivered to the Court kitchen, the rest 
was sold to the townspeople at a moderate price. When 
the hunt, which almost always took place at some dis- 
tant point, was over, and my grandfather had returned 
home in the evening, he immediately changed his clothes, 
put on the gold-embroidered dress uniform (in which he 
looked extremely handsome), and hastened to the castle, 
where he took part in the dinner of the ducal party. 



CHAPTER II 

From the Seeberg to Town 

In the year 1839, when I was ten years old, my father 
received a call to Dorpat, which he accepted unwillingly 
and under the stress of circumstances. His resignation 
had been accepted by the Government, trunks and boxes 
had been packed and were waiting in Lubeck, preparatory 
to shipment into Russia, when one day, just before our 
departure, my father returned from the town in a state 
of pleasurable excitement and exclaimed to my mother: 
"You will be happy to hear that we stay here after all!" 
Then he told her that he had accidentally met the Duke* 
in the town park, who had accosted him with the words : 
" Well, Hansen, you are really going to leave us? " " Yes, 
Your Highness," he had answered, "I am unfortunately 
obliged to do so." He went on to explain that with an 
increasing family his salary was no longer sufficient for 
his needs, and that life on the Seeberg offered ever-in- 
«• creasing discomforts, whereupon the Duke replied that 

these matters could be mended. At the earnest solicita- 
tion of the reigning prince my father then expressed his 
willingness to remain in Gotha, and at once received the 
promise of a higher salary and permission to live in the 
town in the future, and to direct the Observatory thence. 
Thus, we moved down from the height of the Seeberg 
into the suburbs, where my parents soon built a house 

*Ernest I., of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who had ascended the throne as 
next in succession to the extinct family of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg. 

16 



FROM THE SEEBERG TO TOWN 17 

of their own in the midst of a garden, with a view of our 
former home. It was surrounded on all sides but one 
by fields, and no one then suspected that a beautiful 
wide thoroughfare (the Bahnhofstrasse) would sub- 
sequently be laid along the rear of the garden, whereby 
this modest property would gain considerably in value. 
My father built a small addition to the house, in which 
he fitted up on the simplest scale a private observatory. 
He obtained permission to have the transit instrument 
brought down from the Seeberg and set up here, and 
with its help made the observations necessary for his 
computations. In his weekly visits to the Observatory 
on the Seeberg he made an inspection of the instruments 
there, and also superintended the responsible caretaker 
who was placed in charge. 

The secluded, solitary life on the Seeberg and the 
growing size of her family, as well as the death of a 
seven-year-old son, had given a serious bent to my 
mother's earnest nature. In town she continued to live 
principally for her husband, children, and aged parents, 
and her delicate health left her neither time nor strength 
for the fulfilment of social obligations, while my father 
found supreme satisfaction at his desk, where he sat 
early and late, working out with tiny figures his mathe- 
matical computations. 

His habits were frugal and regular, and he interrupted 
them only by occasional trips for scientific purposes, or 
when guests came from other cities to visit him. For 
these reasons our life at home was somewhat monotonous 
and lacking in diversions. My brothers had their com- 
rades, and early developed pronounced talent; but while 
they could devote themselves to play and follow their 



1 8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

inborn tastes during leisure hours because they were 
boys, as a girl and the eldest I was not so well off. Accord- 
ing to the custom of those days, it was my place to assist 
my mother in the household, to learn knitting, sewing, 
and embroidery perfectly, and to acquire only so much 
scholarly knowledge as was necessary to be classed among 
educated people. To be conversant with French was the 
principal desideratum, but in other respects the school 
to which I was sent was an antiquated one, which my 
mother had attended in her time. The mistress, " Ma'm- 
sell" Osann, was an old, rather intelligent, and peculiar 
lady; and a real "schoolmarm." She always sat in an 
armchair in the window corner of the first class, whence 
her argus eyes watched every one of our movements. A 
black velvet bag was her constant companion, which she 
opened and held to her nose once in a while in order to 
take a surreptitious pinch of snuff. Although she 
endeavoured to keep pace with the requirements of the 
times, she never quite succeeded in doing so, and the 
inadequate school education which I received under her 
direction has always been a hindrance to me. A desire 
to know a great deal, which I developed early, was un- 
fortunately not fostered by mediocre and superficial 
teachers; there was but one exception, the teacher of 
history, who made his instruction to us of the first class 
very interesting. His lessons were my favourite ones, 
and I was always able to answer correctly when he asked 
questions in review. 

In my thirteenth year my schooling came to an end. 
I was then almost fully grown and looked older than I 
was, so that a new nursemaid thought me my mother's 
sister. In the same year I was confirmed in the Court 



FROM THE SEEBERG TO TOWN 19 

chapel of Castle Friedenstein, and swore dutifully to 
accept articles of faith which I did not comprehend. I 
was now obliged to help diligently in the housekeeping 
and to assist my mother, who was often ill and over- 
burdened with household cares, but I frankly confess 
that I took little pleasure in this occupation, and would 
much rather have applied myself to intellectual pursuits. 
It was only in the evening that I could take up a book, 
usually a borrowed one, without pricks of conscience, 
and even then I did not venture to read unless I was at 
the same time busily knitting a stocking. Yet I was 
not quite without instruction. I took some private 
lessons in history, geography and drawing in company 
with young friends, and had weekly lessons on the piano. 
But I had more talent for languages than for music. 
When my eighteenth year approached I asked for per- 
mission — which my father very readily accorded, over- 
ruling my mother's objections — to take part in private 
instruction in English. Thus, I came by that knowledge 
of the latter language which was destined to be of the 
utmost importance to my future. But all the rest of my 
attainments were fragmentary and did me little good. 
Besides, I was obliged to conceal the little that I did 
know, in order not to win the dreadful reputation of a 
bluestocking. 

However, my life was not entirely lacking in pleasures, 
which took the form chiefly of balls and visits to the thea- 
tre. The latter was then at its best. The company 
was a good one, and even included several first-rate actors. 
Every Sunday an opera was given, and there were three 
performances a week — a comedy, a drama, and a tragedy. 
In addition, famous actors from other theatres often 



* 



2o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

gave benefit performances. With the low prices then 
prevailing, even people of moderate means were able to 
go often to the theatre, and the latter exerted an edu- 
cating and refining influence on the public, as its repre- 
sentations consisted of classical plays and the best operas. 
This made my taste so fastidious that in many other 
places, as, for instance, in New York, I could never again 
find real enjoyment in the theatre. 

My grandfather lived to see the accession of Ernest II. 
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, and ended his career as Oberforst- 
metster (Master of the Hunt) under the latter's rule. Ernest 
I. died on January 29, 1844, and with his death the ancient 
r6gime ended in our little principality. Ernest II.* was a 
true representative of his time. With the prevision of a 
statesman he recognised the political drift of affairs and was 
an adherent of the liberal tendencies which culminated in 
the revolution of the year 1848. His varied attainments, 
manifold gifts and clear mind rendered a hollow court cere- 
monial abhorrent to him. He took pleasure in outward sim- 
plicity and in intercourse with intellectually distinguished 
people. After ascending the throne he continued to 
reside in the small Palais of the suburb, in which he had 
lived since his marriage, and the apartments of the great 
quadrangular castle above the town remained empty 
except on the occasion of special festivities, such as balls, 
masquerades, or banquets. At the court functions 
under Ernest I. my father wore a dress coat, black silk 
breeches and stockings, low shoes with gold buckles, and 
a sword; but the invitations now read, "Dress, a black 
dress suit with white cravat." This change was not at 
all to my liking at first, as my father had looked so much 

*Brother of Albert, Prince Consort of England. 



FROM THE SEEBERG TO TOWN 21 

handsomer in the former court dress, with his wealth 
of silver hair, his intellectual features, and noble 
bearing. 

In the meantime he had become a scholar of extended 
reputation. As early as 1830 he won the prize offered 
by the Academy of Berlin for "Researches concerning 
the reciprocal perturbations of Jupiter and Saturn." 
Other successful prize treatises followed, among which I 
mention here only the one offered in the year 1850 by 
the Academy of Paris (" Memoir e sur le calcul des per- 
turbations qu' 'epreuvent les cometes ,> ), which also brought 
him in a considerable sum of money. The compendious 
manuscript, which fills a thick quarto volume, was written 
in French. 

The numerous scientific works of my father brought 
him honours and decorations, but seldom coin of the 
realm, which led him to remark jestingly once, in allusion 
to his discoveries in the moon: "My property is not of 
this world; it lies in the moon." 

My father's work was principally theoretical. His 
specialty was mathematical astronomy, the so-called 
theory of perturbation, which required mathematical 
calculations much more than observations of the sky. 
A younger contemporary, the celebrated American 
astronomer, Simon Newcomb, made the statement a few 
years ago:* "He (Hansen) may now fairly be considered 
the greatest master of celestial mechanics since Laplace," 
a judgment which I assume to have been prompted by 
strict impartiality. 

The disciples, who sought him in Gotha, as Wilhelm 

^Atlantic Monthly, September, 1898, "Reminiscences of an Astrono- 
mer," since then published in book form. 



22 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Scheibner,* one of the most distinguished of them, said 
in an obituary notice, "received oral instruction from 
him, which he gave with an amiable . patience. This 
privilege he refused to none in whom he recognised talent 
and ardour for his science." One of the foreign students 
was a young American, my first acquaintance among the 
countrymen of my future husband. The young man 
pleased my parents, and during the time that he worked 
under my father's supervision he' remained under our 
roof. He made a name for himself as the astronomer 
Dr. B. A. Gould. 

About the year 1850 I made the acquaintance of a 
woman who was to have a great influence on my mental 
development. My mother's eldest brother, Emil Braun, 
who had earned a reputation as an archaeologist, came 
to Gotha on a visit to my grandfather, to introduce his 
second wife, an Englishwoman. They were on their 
way to Rome, where my uncle was at the head of the 
Prussian Archaeological Institute. My aunt's maiden 
name was Ann Thomson. She was a native of Man- 
chester, but had lived much in London and had received 
an excellent education from her intelligent and art-loving 
father, so that with her clear mind and active intellect 
she had developed into an unusual woman. She was 
well informed in all branches of literature and fine arts 
and spoke several languages. Liebig did not consider 
it beneath his dignity to carry on a correspondence with 
her, and Layard, the discoverer of Nineveh, had taken 
great interest in her. She was a friend of the Brownings, 
of Mrs. Jameson, Mrs. Gaskell, John Kenyon, and be- 
longed to their circle in London, as the published letters 

♦Professor of Mathematics at the University of Leipzig. 



FROM THE SEEBERG TO TOWN 23 

of Mrs. Browning go to show.* When Emil Braun 
informed my mother by letter, in 1849, of his engagement 
to Miss Thomson, he compared her nature and character 
to that of Portia in "The Merchant of Venice." She 
was of medium height, with blond hair and regular, 
finely chiselled features. In years she was almost the 
equal of her husband; he was in his fortieth year and 
she was about thirty-six. Her cheerfulness, however, 
and her vivacity had kept her young, and she earned the 
undivided approbation of the family as soon as she 
entered it. I was fortunate enough to win her liking 
during her first visit to Gotha, and in spite of the great 
gaps in my education she did not disdain to interest her- 
self in me. 

During a later visit from her to my grandfather I was 
indebted to her for my first acquaintance with Haw- 
thorne's "House of the Seven Gables," published shortly 
before, which, she told me, was a very remarkable book 
and left it for me to read. She also spoke to me of Tenny- 
son and his poems, which were entirely unknown to me, 
but she placed them below those of the Brownings. 

These years held my entire future in their lap without 
my being in any way aware of it. In the autumn of 185 1 
my mother's brother-in-law, the landholder August 
Bufleb, made a journey to the Orient, an undertaking so 
unusual in those days that it created quite an excitement 
in our little town. At the same time my future husband, 
Bayard Taylor, was also on his way to Egypt. He and 

*In a letter to Miss Thomson Mrs. Browning addresses her: "You, 
who are a Greek yourself!" This letter and a few others of the 
year 1845, published in "Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning" 
(in two volumes), have reference to some translations from the 
Greek for an Anthology, which Miss Thomson was editing at the 
time. 



* 



24 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

my uncle, who at first intended to travel in Palestine, but 
was induced by the Prussian Minister at Constantinople 
to make the trip to Alexandria, met on the steamer 
which ran from Smyrna to the latter port. Both travellers, 
the German and the American, although far removed in 
age, felt attracted to each other at once, and formed a 
friendship which lasted as long as they lived. Arrived 
at Cairo, they hired a dahabweh together for the Nile 
trip, and started on November 17th. On December 1st 
my uncle wrote to his wife, my aunt : 

"One evening is as beautiful as another, but none 
resembles its predecessor. It is impossible to withstand 
the sweet magic of this landscape; peace, heavenly 
quietude takes possession of the sympathetic heart, and 
beautifies, ennobles life. Every such evening finds my 
comrade and myself on deck, thinking with loving hearts 
of our absent dear ones, and the bonds of friendship are 
drawn closer and closer by the rare harmony of our habits 
of thought and action. We travelling companions avoid 
speaking of the time when one of us will be going through 
the Nubian Desert to Sennahar, and the other returning 
alone on the boat to Cairo." 

On December 16th the day of separation and sorrowful 
farewells dawned. But Bayard Taylor had already given 
his promise to his friend to visit him in Gotha after finish- 
ing his travels in the Orient. On his return my uncle 
never tired of talking of his young American travelling 
companion, and thus we learned that he was seeking to 
recover in foreign countries from the deep wound which 
fate had dealt him in the loss of his first love, to whom he 
had been wedded on her deathbed. We were all anxious 



FROM THE SEEBERG TO TOWN 25 

to make the young man's acquaintance, and when in 
September, 1852, he came in fulfilment of his promise the 
houses of the family in all its branches were opened to wel- 
come him in the most hospitable manner, and even in 
more remote circles the appearance of this much-travelled 
stranger created a sensation. All who came in contact 
with him were attracted toward him, and he, for his 
part, in spite of the inherited reserve of his nature, was 
warm in praise of German Gemuihlichkeit. This quality 
was even inherent in his own blood, as the ancestors of both 
his grandmothers had been German colonists. He was 
at that time twenty-seven years old, his tall figure was 
still slender, his oval face deeply browned by the sun of 
the Orient. He gave the impression of an unusual, 
unspoiled, good and noble man, and thus he remained 
in my memory. I knew him but slightly at that time, 
as I met him only at the various dinners which were given 
in his honour by the family. That he would be my future 
husband did not enter my mind ; nor did I seem to make 
any deep impression upon him. 



CHAPTER III 

In Rome 

A year later I made my pilgrimage to Rome, which 
was a turning point in my life. Ever since the beginning 
of 1853 there had been some talk of my complying with 
the wish of my uncle and aunt, who were living there, to 
spend some time with them. I had been in correspon- 
dence with my aunt for some time, and so I was informed 
of the interesting life which awaited me in her home, and 
I was full of the anticipation of taking part in it. It 
sounded so enticing when she wrote: "Emil is now 
giving two German lectures and one in English every 
week. The German lectures are for the young artists and 
students of Rome, but are public, and diligently attended 
by many ladies and gentlemen. Sometimes we leave the 
lecture-room and go down into the forum, or to some 
other place where antiquities are to be discanted upon, 
and have the lecture in the presence of the ruins of old 
Rome." Then again Aunt Ann wrote: "About six 
weeks ago we had quite a brilliant singing evening, and 
last week an instrumental performance of Beethoven's 
trios, when de Witt, our invalid, played divinely with two 
Italians: violin and violoncello. It went off so well that 
several persons have since begged for invitations for the 
next time, and Madame Henzen said to me, it was 
' etwas Grosses solche Musik im Hause zu haben' [a great 
thing to have such music at home]." 

26 



IN ROME 27 

Finally, in the autumn of 1853, an acceptable travelling 
companion was found for me, and I bade adieu to my 
dear ones at home. Under the protection of a friend 
of the family I travelled by way of Vienna, Venice and 
Florence. I had letters commending me to the care of 
acquaintances in each of these cities, and stopped long 
enough to see the sights before proceeding to Rome, 
where I arrived on December 3d. It was night when 
the mail coach drove through the gate into the Piazza 
del Popolo, and darkness covered the Capitol as I climbed 
to the Monte Caprino,* where stood the house in which 
I was to dwell, the Casa Tarpeia, close to the Tarpeian 
Rock. A stairway of stone, with more than eighty steps, 
communicated with the upper floor on which were the 
apartments of my relatives. I was very tired, but sleep 
was long in coming that night, 

The following morning, to which I had looked forward 
with pleasant anticipation, brought me a disappointment, 
as the first few days of their stay have done to so many 
visitors in Rome — perhaps in order that later they may 
be the more securely caught in the bonds of the enchant- 
ress. It was the darkest month of the entire Roman 
year ; a gray blanket of clouds covered the city and the 
Campagna, and veiled the distant mountains. In such 
an atmosphere the gray ancient ruins which I saw from 
the window did not look very promising, and the crowded 
masses of low houses between them did not seem particu- 
larly interesting to one who could not disentangle them. 
For our lodging was situated principally on the south 
side of the building, whence from the Saal (which was the 
sitting-room and at the same time my aunt's drawing- 

*The name applied to the southwestern portion of the Capitoline Hill. 



28 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

room) and from the adjoining loggia ancient Rome lay 
spread in a wide semi-circle at our feet. 

The unfavourable weather gave me leisure to grow 
acquainted with my new home. The rooms were filled 
with books, pictures of the old masters, and fragments of 
ancient sculpture. These formed the background of the 
comfortable English home which the taste of my aunt 
had created. The family circle into which I was ad- 
mitted consisted of five persons : my uncle and aunt, my 
eighteen-year-old brother, who had come to Rome in the 
previous year, Miss Cannan, a Scotch lady, and the 
young musician, Theodore de Witt, whom my aunt in her 
letters called her "invalid." To depict accurately the 
individuality of my uncle, Emil Braun, that rarely 
gifted and personally attractive man, is more than my 
pen is capable of. He possessed a tall, slender figure, 
crowned by an almost ideal head. He stands before me 
now with the finely cut features of his thin, pale face, 
lighted up by a spiritual expression, kindness of heart 
and profound thoughtfulness showing in the glance of the 
blue eyes, and with his long ash-blond locks combed 
back from a broad brow. As First Secretary and for many 
years Director of the German Archaeological Institute 
on the Capitol, he was rooted fast in the Eternal City, 
and was well known and well beloved not only among 
Italians, but also by his own countrymen and dis- 
tinguished visitors in Rome. Mrs. Browning thus 
speaks of him in a letter to Miss Mitford, of January 9, 
1850: 

"Charmed, too, we both were with Dr. Braun — I 
mean Robert and I were charmed. He has a mixture of 
fervour and simplicity which is still more delightfully 



IN ROME 29 

picturesque in his foreign English. Oh, he speaks 
English perfectly, only with an obvious accent enough! " * 

My uncle was an extremely busy man; often we saw 
him only at the two principal meals, but he always had 
something new or interesting to tell us, and his conversa- 
tion was full of sparkling humour and wit. 

The Scotch lady had come to Rome in the previous 
year in order to make, under the supervision of my 
aunt, an English translation of Emil Braun's latest 
work, "The Ruins and Museums of Rome." Regularly 
every morning the two ladies sat at their writing desks in 
the Saal, occupied with their task. My brother, who had 
previously studied art in Dresden, was continuing his 
studies in Rome and only occasionally found time to de- 
vote himself to me; de Witt, finally, was equally fitted 
with my uncle and aunt to attract the attention of those 
who came in contact with him. He had been in Rome 
since 1850, whither he had come partly on account of 
his health, weakened by protracted study, partly led by 
the desire to study ancient music, especially that of 
Palestrina, at its source. The means for his Roman 
sojourn were given by the King of Prussia at the inter- 
cession of Meyerbeer (who had accidentally become 
acquainted with an early composition of de Witt's) and 
of the musical Court Chamberlain, Baron von Dachroden. 
For a year past he had occupied two rooms communica- 
ting with Doctor Braun's apartments, and the bonds of 
friendship which united him with the latter and his wife 
were more closely drawn. The wasting disease of which he 
was a victim had not been checked in a southern climate ; 

*"The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning," New York, 1897, 
Vol. I, page 431. 



3 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

it had continued its ravages, and his hollow cheeks and 
pallid face showed only too plainly what would be the 
fate of this young genius. At the time I came to Rome 
he was occupied with a critical edition of the Motettes of 
Palestrina, and in the course of time I learned that he 
succeeded, in spite of obstacles of various kinds, in 
getting into his hands all the remnants of that immortal 
music, which were scattered among the libraries of 
Rome, and thus in saving much that was threatened 
with destruction. 

At home there had been no lack of intellectual interests, 
on account of our acquaintance with learned men and 
other well-known and cultured people, but these interests 
had always been more or less one sided, and the sesthetic 
half of my nature had hitherto remained undeveloped. 
The benignant fate which took me to Rome and into the 
surroundings which I found there is responsible for the 
growth in me, as far as natural gifts and capacity made it 
possible, of that ideal of the beautiful which had previously 
floated but dimly before my vision. The disappointing 
impression of my first view of old Rome was dissipated 
by the rays of the sun, beneath whose radiant light I 
beheld the panorama from the flat roof of the Casa 
Tarpeia. In a great circle the city lies spread out from 
the Esquiline Hill to the Coliseum ; in the background the 
chain of the Sabine Mountains and that of Albano; then 
in the foreground the picturesque Aventine, with the 
Tiber at its foot — beyond, the Janiculum, the dome of 
St. Peter's, and to the north the impressive outlines of 
Soracte. Where in the whole world could one find 
another view like this! 

Down from the Monte Caprino a grand flight of stairs 



IN ROME 31 

leads to the Piazza of the Capitol and thence the Capi- 
toline stairway extends into the city below. Narrow, 
crooked streets, where one picture follows another, lead 
to the Corso, where we again step into the modern world. 
But the strait and dirty alleys where the people lived, 
with here and there an old palazzo, were my favourites. 
There one saw a Rome which no longer exists to-day. 
The papal Rome of those days was still pretty much the 
same Rome in which Goethe had felt so happy. After 
the political regeneration of Italy and of Rome a wealth of 
poetical associations and of artistic beauty disappeared 
forever. Those walking Caryatids, the Italian women 
of the people, still wore their picturesque costumes, and 
in the Piazza Montenara, where Goethe had supped, the 
campagnuoli could be seen daily in their short jackets, 
red vests, and gay belts. Not far from the Corso, around 
some splashing fountain, you might see a goatherd camped 
with his bearded charge, keeping his noonday siesta, and 
numerous monks and priestly processions added variety 
to the daily panorama. 

Among the mass of new impressions which were crowd- 
ing upon me the deepest and most lasting was that 
which the sight of antique art exerted upon me. Even 
at my first visit, by the side of my classically educated 
aunt, to the Vatican Museum, a new world was opened 
to me — the realm of "pure form," or, to quote the 
words of Goethe, "the highest that is left to us of the 
antique world, the statues." My first delight was 
overpowering, but the continued guidance of such teachers 
as Emil and Ann Braun was necessary, in order that my 
originally superficial enjoyment of the antique should 
become part and parcel of my being and remain a pos- 



32 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

session for my whole life. Besides visiting the museums, 
we frequented the splendid picture galleries among 
which that in the Palazzo Sciarra, now no longer in 
existence, although small, contained some unique master- 
pieces. But great as was my enjoyment of the masters 
of colour, it always remained^secondary to my delight in 
antique sculpture. To such an extent was this true that 
in later years my husband made the remark that the 
sense of colour was subordinate in my nature to the 
sense of form. 

Before I entered the Vatican I was taken to St. 
Peter's, but the church made less of an impression of 
grandeur upon me than did the Piazza outside with its 
obelisk, fountains, and surrounding colonnades. The 
enormous dimensions and wonderfully harmonious pro- 
portions of the interior of the church make it impossible 
for the eye to find at once the correct standard of measure- 
ment. A whole year later, on the occasion of the procla- 
mation by Pius IX. of the Immaculate Conception of the 
Virgin Mary, I recognised for the first time after repeated 
visits what a wondrous building, incomparably grand in 
architecture, the church of St. Peter is. It was late 
when my uncle, who accompanied me, started from home, 
and the solemn function had begun before our entrance. 
The nave and the aisles were closely packed by a countless 
multitude of worshipers; only the space between the 
portals and the first colossal columns was empty, with the 
exception of a few persons scattered here and there. 
Beyond, the people stood like a wall, head behind head, 
a crowd composed in great part of the contadini from the 
Campagna and from the distant mountains, all in their 
many-hued, distinct costumes. Far behind this compact 



IN ROME 33 

throng rose the high altar, where the papal proclamation 
was being delivered, so distant that only a faint murmur 
now and again, a few tones of the proclamation or of the 
singing reached our ears. Thus, the immense size of the 
interior was brought home to me, and I understood the 
glorious idea of Bramante, which Michelangelo afterward 
carried out — to portray the unlimited might of the 
Papal Church in the plan of this, the greatest temple of 
Catholic Christendom. 

Besides the educational influence which surrounded me 
in Rome there was no dearth of social pleasures. My 
relatives were on a footing of acquaintance or friendship 
with the best members of the foreign colony, English as 
well as German, who every winter came to live in the 
Eternal City. Among the former were the Brownings. 
Both were in the years of their highest productiveness: 
they stood at the acme of their creative activity and of 
their fame. Robert Browning could be called a hand- 
some man at that time. When I saw him again in 1867 
his thick dark-brown hair was blanched, his heavy 
whiskers had disappeared, and of his former beauty all 
that remained was the spiritual impress of his strongly 
marked features. In contrast to the robust virility of 
her husband was the small, slender figure and delicate 
appearance of Mrs. Browning. But in her eyes glowed 
the same deep fire as in his, only in hers it seemed more 
concentrated, as her black hair, hanging down in long 
curls, so framed her pale, haggard face that her dark 
eyes seemed to be the only feature visible. Browning 
counted himself happy to be in Rome, "a country," he 
said, picking up a clay vessel filled with water for evapo- 
ration which stood on the iron stove, "where you find 



34 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

utensils of this form and colour in daily use among the 
people!" 

The last time that I met the wedded poets was on the 
occasion of a morning concert in our salon. The young 
Prussian Prince Friedrich Wilhelm (afterward Emperor 
Frederick) made a short stay in Rome in the winter of 
1854 ; his attention had been directed by the then Prussian 
Charge d' Affaires, Harry von Arnim, to de Witt, and he 
expressed a wish to hear the young musician play upon 
the piano. This gave the motive for the concert at which 
the Prince appeared with his suite, and where a small 
company of distinguished guests, among them the Brown- 
ings, awaited him. The Prince was then a handsome 
blond youth of twenty-two, with an agreeable presence. 
His modest demeanour created a favourable impression 
upon everyone. When my uncle, who was the Prince's 
cicerone, was questioned about the future heir to the 
throne, his sagacious judgment was that the youthful 
mind of the Prince was open to all good influences, and 
that it was to be hoped that his surroundings would 
always remain in accord with such influences. 

In the course of my first Roman winter I had gradually 
learned to know Rome and its nearer surroundings so 
well, together with all that the Eternal City offered of 
artistic and natural beauty, and manifold other pleasures 
and sights, that before a year had passed I was completely 
enmeshed in her enchanted web, and the thought that 
I must soon set my face toward the north weighed 
heavily upon me. My joy was therefore great when my 
parents, at the request of my uncle and aunt, gave me 
permission for a longer stay in Rome. This was in May. 
He who has never spent that exquisite month in Rome 



IN ROME 35 

knows not how beautiful she is. The gray masonry of the 
ruins, on which the nimble lizards have hitherto sunned 
themselves, are covered as if by enchantment with green 
blossoming vines, the villas are gardens of roses in which 
nightingales sing, luxuriant vegetation is everywhere, and 
even the desolate width of the Campagna is decked with 
fresh verdure. Nevertheless our plans were made betimes 
to leave the city for the country toward the end of June. 
The Scotch lady had left us in the spring ; my uncle, who 
had always defied the summer in the Eternal City, was 
unwilling to leave, and my brother preferred to ac- 
company a student friend to Subiaco. So it happened that 
my aunt went with de Witt, her "invalid," and me into 
the Apennines, where a small place — San Gemini near 
Terni — had been recommended to us. A veturino took 
us, after a two days' journey, to the foot of the steep 
hill on whose summit rose the gray walls of the little 
town, and after a hot drive the ancient gate received us 
into its grateful shade. 

We were the first foreigners who had entered here 
within the memory of man, so that we created no little 
excitement until we finally reached a large stone house 
in a narrow alley, where lodgings had been engaged for us. 
In this spot, surrounded by fertile vineyards and fields, 
with a view of picturesque mountain scenery dominated 
by the lofty snowcapped summit of a towering peak, we 
remained for three full months, which were diversified 
by various peculiar experiences and events. Among 
them was our acquaintance with scorpions, of a small 
variety, it is true, and said to be harmless unless angered, 
but nevertheless unpleasant. In order to prove the fact 
which we had formerly heard stated, that the scorpion 



* 



36 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

commits suicide when he finds himself in danger from 
which he cannot escape, we caught one of these little 
creatures and put it in a paper bag. Then we placed 
pieces of red-hot coal in a circle about a yard in diameter 
on the stone floor of the kitchen, and let the scorpion 
out of his prison into the middle of it. He ran in all 
directions in his terror, and finding no way of escape 
he swiftly raised and bent back his tail, inserted the sting 
in his own neck and fell over, dead. If I had not seen 
the occurrence with my own eyes I should still believe 
it to be a fable. 

After these real Italian summer months we returned 
to Rome, where long-missed artistic pleasures awaited 
us. As no piano was to be found in all San Gemini, we 
had been sadly deprived of music, and now enjoyed all the 
more de Witt's glorious playing on my aunt's grand 
piano and the concerts which were given in the course 
of the winter. Thus, I had the privilege of hearing Mrs. 
Sartoris (the famous Miss Kemble) and the celebrated 
Barisotti sing for a charitable purpose; but a concert 
given by Formaggi, the organist of St. Peter's, made the 
deepest impression upon me — a concert in which only 
ecclesiastical music was on the programme, among others 
the "O bene Jesus" of Palestrina, sung a capella, and a 
" Santo Santo" for six voices by Theodore de Witt. The 
latter was acquainted with all the Italian musicians of 
note then in Rome, and we often saw them, playing or 
conversing, in the salon of my aunt. Other Italians also 
came and went, and I thus had occasion to educate my 
ear for the best Italian : " lingua toscana in bocca romana." 

Besides the old acquaintances of the previous winter, 
which we renewed, we made some interesting additional 



IN ROME 37 

ones. Among them Wolf von Goethe, attached to the 
German Legation, a tall man, no longer young, whose 
features had a slight resemblance to those of his grand- 
father. He had a noble manner, with an aristocratic turn 
of mind, and was rather blase. Another reminiscence 
of Goethe's time was furnished in the person of a little 
brunette lady of forty, a granddaughter of Werther's 
Lotte. Miss Kestner was a simple, amiable, and cultivated 
lady, whose round face, red cheeks, and bright, dark 
eyes left a lasting picture in my mind. 

The winter passed like its predecessor with manifold 
interests, foremost among which were the frequent visits 
to the art collections, with Doctor Braun's "Ruins and 
Museums of Rome"* as an intellectual guide, until finally 
the short beautiful spring set in, followed immediately 
by a scirocco temperature, which forced us into ville- 
giatura. This time we sought the nearby Alban Moun- 
tains, where we found an airy lodging in the Villa Picco- 
lomini, in Frascati. One day during a drive through the 
Campagna a merry adventure happened to me. I was 
going to Rome to do some errands and for this purpose 
made use of the daily vetturino. In the narrow rattlin^ 
vehicle I sat with an old campagnuole and his two sons, 
who were also going to Rome. The latter were bright 
young fellows, and they as well as the old man, like all 
Italians of the lower class, behaved with inborn politeness. 
At the same time the Italian peasants are true children of 
nature (at least, they were so then), confiding, open- 

*Mrs. Browning wrote to Mrs. Braun under date of May 13, 1855: 
"lam only sorry I did not get to Rome after the book: it would have 
helped my pleasure so, holding up the lanthorn in dark places. So 
much suggestiveness in combination with so much specific information 
makes a book (or a man) worth knowing." — "The Letters of Elizabeth 
Barrett Browning," New York, 1&97, Vol. II, page 195. 



38 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

hearted, without timidity, and I enjoyed talking to them. 
The old man addressed me as giovanotta and all three said 
tu to me. I had to tell them where my home was, then 
they questioned further: If it was distant twenty 
miglief "Oh, no," said I, "it is farther than a hundred, 
yes, farther than two hundred miles," whereupon the old 
man opened his eyes wide and asked, "Is it farther than 
Napoli?" 

The more the summer waned and autumn drew near 
the more I was weighed down by the thought of my 
approaching separation from Rome and its enchanted 
soil, which was scarcely diminished by the joyful expecta- 
tion of seeing my family and friends again. I believed 
I had found in Italy the home of my soul, and much as 
I felt drawn toward parents, brothers, and sisters it 
was a dreary prospect to have to accustom myself again 
to the narrow horizon and the small interests of my 
native town. In the month of October came the dreaded 
day when I bade farewell to the Eternal City. I took 
with me, at the request of de Witt, the portion of his 
score of Palestrina which was ready for the printer, 
with the commission to send it to a publisher in Mann- 
heim, who had shortly before made satisfactory offers 
for the publication of the work. Three volumes of it 
were ready for the press when the talented musician 
succumbed to his illness in December, 1855. In the sum- 
mer of the following year my uncle, Emil Braun, died of 
the perniciosa, the worst form of Roman fever, and in the 
ensuing winter my brother, the artist, died in Munich. 
As Miss Cannan wrote to me from Scotland shortly after- 
ward, " Death has made sad havoc in the Casa Tarpeia!" 



* 




CHAPTER IV 
Return to Gotha 

There was joy in my parents' house when I arrived, 
and joy entered into my heart also. Many changes had 
occurred during my absence. Grandfather had departed 
this life and my younger sister had become engaged to 
a young Curlander, August Wagner, who held a position 
in the Observatory at Pulkowa, near St. Petersburg. 

An event of very great importance was the removal 
of the Observatory from the Seeberg to the town of Gotha. 
This change had been mooted and deliberated upon since 
the year 1850 ; now my father had at last secured the con- 
cession from the Government and the Assembly, and at 
the time of my return work was begun upon the new 
building. The stones for the latter were furnished by 
the sandstone blocks of the old structure, which were 
rehewn and thus regained their original handsome 
deep-yellow colour. The location chosen was the site 
of the old disused Court smithy at the lower, southern 
end of the Jagerstrasse, beside the Leina* Canal and 
close to the public park, with a fine view of the Thuringian 
Mountains. The building was near to our house and was 
a constant attraction to my father, who visited it several 
times a day, even during the earliest and roughest stages 
of construction. 

*An artificial brook laid out by the monk Bonifacius in the twelfth 
century, by which water was conducted from the mountains to the 
arid town of Gotha. 

39 



4 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

It would seem that during the two years that I had been 
away from my family a noticeable change had occurred 
within me. My intellectual horizon was broader, my 
character had become firmer, and my parents seemed 
consciously or unconsciously, to take this fact into con- 
sideration by no longer treating me like a child, although 
such was in those days the customary treatment accorded 
to daughters even older than I was. Freely and openly, 
as I had never ventured to do before, I joined in the 
conversations in which my father indulged during meals 
and in the short pauses for rest, which he allowed himself 
several times during the day away from his desk. Almost 
uninterrupted mental work and healthy sleep were neces- 
sities to him — a severely regular, simple mode of life, and 
these talks seemed to be the only relaxation he required. 

When in the year 1856 a pamphlet was published on the 
"Life and Works of Gaus"* its contents recalled a num- 
ber of incidents. Among other things it mentioned that 
this eminent scientist had taught himself to read; "but 
so did I," added my father. Then he continued : " I once 
scored a point over Gaus, as perhaps no one else ever 
did. I was calling on him in Gottingen and during our 
talk I spoke of the influence of refraction upon eclipses 
and occultations. I noticed immediately that the 
existence of such an influence was quite unknown to him, 
because he quickly changed the subject, as he was used 
to do whenever any topic was disagreeable to him." He 
also told us of the fact that Gaus did not begin to memor- 
ise his logarithms until he had found out that he (Hansen) 
knew them by heart, f 

*Karl Friedrich Gauss, the celebrated astronomer of Gottingen; 
died 1855. 

fFrom an old diary. 



RETURN TO GOTHA 41 

Another time he told us a neat anecdote of his (Danish) 
countryman, Oehlenschlager, with whom he was ac- 
quainted in his youth in Copenhagen. An insignificant 
young man who had been introduced to the author 
asked if he might call upon him at his lodging, and what 
was the address. Whereupon the latter made answer, 

" I live at 390 Street." " Oh," said the young man, 

"how can I ever remember the number?" "Easily," 
replied Oehlenschlager; "you need only think of the 
Graces, the Muses, and yourself." 

The time now approached when Bayard Taylor came 
again to Gotha. It was the summer of 1856. A year 
before he had announced this visit to my relatives, 
August Bufleb and his wife, and when my uncle wrote 
to express his pleasure at the prospect his letter continued 
as follows: 

"A short time ago I bought the property next to my 
estate, a garden with a little modest house. This cot- 
tage shall shelter Taylor, when next year he keeps his 
word and comes to visit us. All arrangements are being 
made with this end in view ; the upper half of the garden — 
a real French design of the last century with statues and 
fountain, dark beech alleys and trimmed box — is put in 
order and awaits our distant friend; a smaller cot, near 
the fountain, is encased in bark and will serve as a bath- 
house. The lower portion of the garden, a grove with 
fine large trees, containing a few acres, will refresh you 
with its shade and hopes to afford you a secret shrine 
of nature. The little parlour in the garden house will 
assemble us around you as often as you please. Thus, 
my dear Taylor, I have written my letters to you and 
therefore, in spite of distance and long separation, your 



42 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

heart could not give you news of any change in my feel- 
ings or thoughts. On the contrary, the coincidence of 
our mutual harmony of thought possesses to my mind 
something truly touching; while you were dedicating 
your excellent work on Central Africa, your innermost 
ego, to me, I was beautifying the choicest part of my 
estate for you!" 

Bayard Taylor had returned home from his travels in 
the Orient late in the year 1853, and had published his 
three volumes, "Africa," "The Lands of the Saracens" 
and " India, China, and Japan. ' ' He had visited the latter 
country with the American Expedition under Commodore 
Perry, which opened these islands to the commerce of 
the world, and was thus one of the first foreigners to set 
foot on Japanese soil. 

When he arrived in Gotha in August, 1856, he brought 
with him his two sisters, who were about my age, and 
his youngest brother, a youth of seventeen. All three 
were attractive in appearance, and had a natural grace 
of manner. The older sister, Annie, was tall, with a calm 
and stately carriage; Emma, the younger, was shorter 
and plumper, a dark brunette with fresh pink cheeks and 
a lively disposition. I can see her still, a picture of youth- 
ful brightness, as she came to meet me for the first time, 
clad in a white dress, with a freshly plucked flower in her 
black hair. Frederick, the youngest of all, gave the 
impression of a healthy, bright boy, modest but not 
bashful. All three were evidently greatly attached to 
their older brother and followed his lead implicitly. 

Bayard Taylor's external appearance had changed 
somewhat since his earlier visit. His face, even then 



RETURN TO GOTHA 43 

burned by the African sun, was tanned a still darker 
shade and his untrimmed beard was thicker and slightly- 
curly. His features had matured, while the physical 
exertions and mental activity of the intervening years 
had left their mark upon him. But his amiable disposi- 
tion, his cheerful spirit, and his unquenchable sense of 
humour had not suffered; he openly showed his delight 
at being with his old friends again and enjoying German 
Gemuthlichkeit. In front of the garden house, in which 
his hosts had prepared his lodging, a terrace surrounded 
by flower beds and shade trees extended toward the 
garden with its splashing fountain; this was our trysting 
place during the afternoon hours, when nothing else was 
going on, and if ever I did not put in an appearance volun- 
tarily "Fritz" was despatched by his sisters to summon 
me. In this way Bayard Taylor and I became better 
acquainted than we had been during his first visit in 1851 ; 
but as he did not know how to carry on a courtship, our 
intercourse remained on a footing of simple friendship. At 
that time he gave me the latest volume of his collected 
poems, so that I became familiar with his poetic work; 
his books of travel I had previously read. Thus several 
weeks passed pleasantly, until the travellers resumed 
their journey, proceeding first to Italy and then to 
Switzerland where the young people were left in a French 
pension at Lausanne while their brother returned to 
the North in order to spend the winter in Sweden and 
Lapland. On his way thither in the middle of Novem- 
ber he passed through Gotha again, and said good-by 
with the assurance, " Next spring you will see me again! " 
I was then ready to set out as travelling companion to 
my father on a trip to England, which he undertook in 



44 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

order to superintend the printing of his "Tables of the 
Sun and Moon," which the English Government had 
offered to publish. He took advantage of an invitation 
from Airy, the Royal Astronomer of Greenwich Obser- 
vatory,* to be his guest during the time of his stay there. 
Mrs. Airy had added the request that he should bring 
his eldest daughter with him. 

Mrs. Airy was an extremely amiable lady and her 
household was a typical English one. Her four children 
were remarkably well bred ; the eldest daughter, although 
entirely grown up, was not yet emancipated from the 
nursery, and during the day wore pinafores like her 
younger sisters. In the evening, when the dessert was 
put upon the table, they all four appeared, dressed in 
white, with bare necks and arms, and coloured sashes 
around their waists. 

The season was a very unfavourable one for my first 
visit to London. A dense fog enveloped us upon our 
arrival and penetrated into the innermost spaces of 
the enormous railway station, so that I, in my inex- 
perience took it for the steam from the many locomotives 
continually coming and going. From the Observatory, 
which is situated high upon a hill in Greenwich Park, with 
a glorious view extending to the distant Marine Hospital, 
there was nothing to be seen on the morning of our 
arrival except a grayish yellow mantle of fog covering 
everything. As the sun seldom broke through the clouds 
during the three weeks of our visit, I saw very little of 
London, but passed the time agreeably notwithstanding, 
and learned to know and admire English family life. My 
father in the meantime occupied himself in his usual way 

♦Afterward Sir George Airy. 



RETURN TO GOTHA 45 

and generally disappeared after breakfast, as did Mr. 
Airy, to reappear again in the evening for dinner ; after- 
ward in the drawing-room he made himself agreeable 
with conversation and music, which was no hardship to 
him when he became animated. There was one great 
deprivation, however, to which he had to submit, since 
smoking in the house was tabooed by our hosts. During 
a former visit of my father, in company with the older 
Struwe, it even seemed to be a source of embarrassment 
to Mr. Airy when the two gentlemen lighted their cigars 
in his presence while walking in Greenwich Park. When 
they offered him one he declined with the remark, " I 
have a character to lose ! ' ' Mr. Airy had, however, been 
so considerate this time as to provide for my father, who 
could not very well dispense with his cigar while he worked, 
a small room in the Observatory proper, where the clouds 
of smoke which arose while he was correcting the proofs 
of his "Tables of the Sun and Moon" would disturb 
no one. 

After a very stormy passage of the English Channel, we 
arrived in Ostend December 7th, and two days later 
we were at home again. 

In the following spring the three younger Taylors came 
back from Switzerland and again were the welcome 
guests of my relatives on the Bufleb property. Here 
they awaited the return of their brother Bayard from 
the North, with the intention of starting upon their home- 
ward voyage over the ocean without him, who had fur- 
ther plans of foreign travel. During his icy northern 
journey Bayard Taylor's name was often mentioned, not 
only in private circles, but also in the German press. 
Early in January his friend Bufleb wrote to him : 



46 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"It is really almost amusing how you have become 
the watchword within the narrower and wider social 
circle in which I move. As often as I appear in such a 
circle it seems to be expected of me to begin talking of 
you. If I do not happen to do so they call out: 'the 
watchword, the watchword!' — and I am at once 
launched on the subject which I am ever fond of con- 
versing upon. Even persons not near to you or me prove 
their sympathy by sending favourable criticisms about 
you which they have seen in one newspaper or the 
other." 

Later he wrote to Taylor at Stockholm : 

" Of yourself we have lately read and heard a good deal. 
The Cologne Gazette brought us your visit to Humboldt ; 
the Village Gazette in a very genial article your talk 
with Miigge; the Europa your views about several 
notabilities of German literature. Only this morning 

Z sent me some longer productions of your pen 

which the Saxon Constitutional had taken from the 
Tribune." In another paper a correspondent described 
Bayard Taylor's visit to friends in Dresden during the 
* previous autumn: 

" Lately we went in his company to the house in Korner's 
vineyard in Loschwitz, where Schiller wrote ' Don Carlos.' 
It made a strange impression when the American, stand- 
ing in a snow flurry on the white and cold vine hills of 
the Elbe, told us of India and related how at Benares, on 
the banks of the holy Ganges, he had thought of our poet 
in the temple of the goddess Zhavani. She is the Ceres 
of the Hindoos. When Bayard Taylor stood before that 
temple hundreds of country people came up to it in pro- 
cession to lay sacrificial gifts upon the altar. They 



RETURN TO GOTHA 47 

carried in their hands urns of bronze filled with water, and 
were bedecked with flowers and green branches. 'This 
reminded me forcibly,' said the traveller, 'of the festival 
of Eleusis, and I repeated the glorious poem, Windet zum 
Kranze die goldenen Aehrenf* My worship in the temple 
of the Indian Ceres was given to Schiller! ' " 

The stay in Stockholm lasted longer than had originally 
been Bayard Taylor's intention, and it was the middle 
of May when he arrived in Gotha. It was an unusually 
beautiful month of May for our bleak Thuringian table- 
land. Fresh green foliage was everywhere, fragrant 
lilacs were in bloom around the garden house, the grove 
below the clipped arbours and hedges proffered a grateful 
refuge from the hot sunshine, and lilies-of-the-valley, 
daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips were in flower in the beds. 
A few days passed, and I was engaged to him. My 
parents, to whom it was a great hardship to let me go so 
far away, across the ocean, especially since they had 
already given one daughter to Russia, had nothing 
to say against the engagement, and gave me their 
blessing. 

It was a short time we spent together. Bayard Taylor 
accompanied his brother and sisters to Bremen early in 
June, whence they took passage for New York, and then 
carried out his plan, previously formed, of visiting the 
North Cape and seeing the midnight sun. 

Since Taylor had started again on his travels in 1856 
the Muse seemed to have turned her back upon him. Not 
one of his poems was written during this period of wander- 
ing. On the other hand, during his temporary visits to 

*"Das Eleusische Fest," beginning: "Ears of thewheat for the gar- 
land you're wreathing." 



* 



4 8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Gotha, he composed German verses (sometimes also 
parodies of German poems) which bear testimony to 
his overflowing spirits. Thus, he one day sent the follow- 
ing note by his servant to his hostess, my aunt: 

"An die Hebe, gute Tante, 
Die beruhmte, vielgenannte, 
Die ich schon seit Jahren kannte, 
Send' ich eiligst meine Bitte 
Aus der laubumrankten Hiitte. 
Hier ich dicht' und durst' im Freien, 
Abgeschieden von Mareien, 
Fern vom heitern Pfingstenfeste, 
Wie ein Vogelein im Neste. 
Und ist mir das Herz schon bange, 
Denn ich g'essen hab' schon lange, 
Und gerauchet drei Cigarren 
Und Du lasst mich immer harren 
Auf das Bier, das heissersehnte, 
Das noch niemals abgelehnte, 
Das was einst die Gotter trunken, 
Woraus spruh'n der Freude Funken, 
Einz'ger Trost und einz'ge Labe, 
Die ich nun auf Erden habe, 
Ausgenommen die Marei, 
Und ich wollt' sie war dabei."* 

[*"To the dearest aunt and best, 
Celebrated, oft addressed, 
Whom for years I've known and blest, 
Swift I send this prayer of mine 
From the hut embower 'd in vine. 
Here I write and thirst, and sigh, 
Separated from Marei. 
Far from the pleasant Whitsun 'Fest* 
Like a birdie in its nest; 
And my heart is getting low 
Since my breakfast, hours ago, 



RETURN TO GOTHA 49 

This is a sample of quite a collection of comic German 
poems written by Bayard Taylor which I possess. 

Before Taylor returned from the North we had moved 
into the dwelling house of the new Observatory. When 
on September 20th we were at last settled, not only we, 
but all those who visited us to wish us happiness in our 
new home, were pleased with the spacious,- two-story 
house and its appointments. My mother also, who had 
been reluctant to leave her own house, was reconciled 
to it, and my father was so obviously rejoiced to find 
himself at the goal of his long-cherished hope, the suc- 
cessful establishment of his well-considered plan for the 
new Observatory, that we were all very happy. 

The day was drawing near when I was to leave the 
parental home with all the love that it contained. Besides 
father and mother, my youngest brother and sister, the 
only ones left at home, were very near to my heart. 
August, a handsome seventeen-year-old boy, and Ida, 
hardly more than a child, were very much attached to 
me. The little sister especially, whose sunny disposition 
made her the favourite of everyone, was quite as much 
a product of my influence as of my mother's education. 
I studied French with her, but we talked English together 
by preference, in which we were joined by our brother. 
They told me the happenings in their little lives, their 



And I've smoked cigarros three 

While I wait so dismalee 

For the beer, for which I've pined, 

Which I never yet declined. 

Which the gods of old were quaffing, 

And in jovial humour laughing. 

Only solace, only joy, 

Which I still on earth enjoy, 

Excepting Marei, 

And I wish that she were nigh!"] — L. B. T. K. 



* 



5 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

joys and sorrows. These family ties were now to be 
superseded by the bond which I formed for life. 

At the end of September Bayard Taylor returned to 
Gotha, and on the 27th of the following month we were 
married in the pleasant little Court Chapel in Castle 
Friedenstein by our never-to-be-forgotten friend, the 
Oberhofprediger (Court Preacher) Karl Schwarz. At 
first there had been some difficulties in the way of the 
wedding, because my fiance, whose ancestors were 
Quakers, had not been christened, while at that time 
a baptismal certificate was required by the authorities 
before the banns could be published. Fortunately our 
revered Oberhofprediger was an exceptionally liberal 
clergyman ,~ and after a paper had been procured, in 
which Bayard Taylor's parents affirmed their consent 
to the marriage, and an affidavit of his citizenship, Dr. 
Schwarz arranged matters so that the wedding ceremony 
could be performed. To my fiance's great amusement the 
sexton came to him before the banns were read with 
the question, what was the rank of the Herr Brdutigamf 
he must surely have a title? "Oh," was the reply, "you 
can say: Landowner and citizen of the United States; 
that will suffice." And thus was he proclaimed before 
the whole parish. Among the wedding presents he re- 
ceived as presage of the future, a small copy of Goethe's 
"Faust," the gift of a friend, which Bayard Taylor after- 
ward used for his translation. 

Immediately after the wedding we left for London, 
whither my husband was called by the necessity of pre- 
paring his volume of "Northern Travel" for the press. 
The text was ready to hand in the letters which he had 
written for the New York Tribune during his trip to Nor- 



RETURN TO GOTHA 51 

way, Sweden, and Lapland, and it was only necessary 
to put them together and join them into a consistent 
whole. As I was fired with the unconquerable ambition 
to be not only my husband's wife, but his assistant as 
well, he yielded to my wish and allowed me to cut out 
and paste the published letters on sheets of paper. He 
was fond of teasing me with this mechanical work, and 
compared me to Dora in "David Copperfield," saying I 
helped him by holding his pen. 

This time I really learned to know London. The 
metropolis itself made little impression upon me. It is 
not beautiful; but I was attracted by its enormous size, 
its thousands of inhabitants who were to be seen in the 
streets, by the multitude of carriages and carts, by the 
Strand, Fleet Street, and the heart of the "city." This 
old London, with its ancient buildings, was of more in- 
terest to me than Hyde Park or Piccadilly, and I was 
glad that we were lodged in the old quarter in the well- 
known Wood's Hotel. A gray, unassuming edifice, it 
occupied the background of a large court, surrounded by 
equally dingy high houses. The entire square was called 
Furnival's Inn, and was entered from Oxford Street. I 
wonder if it still exists in these changeful times ? Wood's 
was a family hotel; an almost solemn silence pervaded 
the entire house; every footstep was muffled by thick 
carpets ; the liveried sevants spoke in low tones, using the 
fewest words. The meals were formally served in our 
rooms, which were so comfortably furnished that we felt 
very much at home. 

Soon after our arrival I made Thackeray's acquaintance, 
and found confirmed in his person the characteristics 
which I had guessed at from his works — a warm heart 



52 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

under the mask of scathing satire. On the occasion of a 
small dinner which he gave us he said to my hus- 
band, after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the 
drawing-room: " By-the-by, . I must give you a wedding 
present. What shall it be?" Then going to an etagere 
he took down a silver inkstand and gave it to his friend, 
in spite of the evident displeasure of his youngest daughter, 
usually so amiable, who exclaimed with all the naivete 
of her fifteen years: "Oh, not that one, papa!" But 
papa gave no heed, and a few days later sent us the gift 
with the inscription engraved upon it: "W. M. Thack- 
eray to Bayard Taylor, Oct. 27, 1857." 

In the beginning of December, after a short visit to my 
parents, we were on our way to Greece, where we intended 
to spend the winter. We took passage at Trieste on the 
Lloyd steamer Miramar, and coasted along the pic- 
turesque shores of Dalmatia, and thence by way of 
Corfu to Ludraki. Here we landed, and crossing the 
isthmus of Corinth, proceeded to Athens. 

Taylor has fully described the very interesting voyage 
on the Miramar and the incidents of the Grecian trip in 
his seventh volume of travel, "Greece and Russia, and 
an Excursion to Crete." Therefore little remains for 
me to mention. 

We were not fortunate in one respect, as this winter 
was an exceptionally cold one in the South. During 
the months of January and February one rainstorm, 
and even of snow, followed another. Everyone shivered 
and complained, and finally more or less destructive 
earthquakes supervened. We welcomed the sunshiny 
days all the more joyfully, and made use of the very first 
to visit the Acropolis. Poor as Athens is in ancient 



RETURN TO GOTHA 53 

monuments as compared to Rome, the latter possesses no 
ruin like this temple of Pallas Athene, none in which 
the pure Hellenic spirit thus speaks to us from the 
crumbling masonry. What is left of the temple and of 
the Propylasa alone makes it worth while to travel to 
Athens, and to bear all the hardships of storm, frost, 
and earthquake. My husband, who was very fond of 
sketching in water colours, could not rest until he had 
made several pictures of the glorious Acropolis rising 
out of the plain, from different sides and under sunny 
and stormy skies. These were the first of a whole series 
of aquarelles which we took home with us from Greece. 

Our very comfortable lodgings were in the house of 
Francois Vitalis, who had accompanied Bayard Taylor 
as dragoman on his trip through Asia Minor. When the 
stormy weather confined us to our rooms we passed the 
time agreeably with divers occupations. My husband 
wrote his letters for the New York Tribune and studied 
modern Greek. Besides, we read together historical 
works on Greece, and studied the ancient geography of 
the country. We read also with great interest Edmond 
About 's "Le Roi des Montagnes," and "La Grece Con- 
temporaine," both of which proved to be good companions 
for the trip. Thus, January passed, and in February my 
husband started on his excursion to Crete. Twice only 
could my traveller send me word of himself, on account of 
the difficulty of communication, but some news concern- 
ing him, received from another source, was a great and 
joyful surprise. It was contained in a letter, which a 
Greek girl in Canea wrote to her former teachers — the 
Americans, Mr. and Mrs. Hill in Athens — and was to the 
effect that the Turkish Pasha was quite enchanted by 



54 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the American traveller, and had received and enter- 
tained him like a prince. 

Early in March my husband unexpectedly returned. 
The abnormally bad weather had prevented him from 
carrying out his original plan to extend his trip to some 
of the islands of the archipelago. Toward the middle of 
the month, as the weather seemed to improve and to 
grow spring-like, he started again, and visited first the 
Peloponesus, and then, after a short rest in Athens, 
the north of Greece. Again without me, because, as he 
wrote to his mother, there were no inns on the way, and 
the houses were dirty, without beds and full of fleas, 
and he must therefore leave me behind. 

During these trips of my husband I had no lack of 
entertainment. We had found very dear friends in the 
American missionary and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, 
who had for many years presided over a school in which 
they educated a large number of Greek girls of all classes. 
A charming intimacy existed between them and us, and 
even during my husband's absence few days passed 
without mutual visits or drives and little jaunts in their 
company. Another agreeable acquaintance was Sir 
Thomas Wyse, the English Minister, and the latter's 
niece, Miss Wyse, who presided over his house and 
received with great amiability at the small soirees which 
they gave weekly. On one of these pleasant evenings 
at the Legation I expressed my astonishment at the sight 
of school children, evidently of the lower classes, whose 
books were carried for them by a servant. Thereupon 
Miss Wyse told me that the little daughter of her coach- 
man, who went to school where the pupils have to sweep 
out the schoolroom, one day broke her broom, and was 



RETURN TO GOTHA 55 

sent out by the teacher to have it mended. On the way- 
she met her father, who was furious to see his daughter 
in the street with a broom, and threatened her with 
severe punishment if she should ever dare to carry any- 
thing again in the street. "This stupid pride," Miss 
Wyse added, "has diminished to a marked degree in this 
city, principally owing to the noble endeavours of the 
Hills." 

About the middle of April Taylor wrote to me from 
Livadia : 

" Yesterday I drank of the streams of Helicon, and was 
saluted by the cries of the goats Zizi, Quiqui and Mimi,* 
from the top of the rock. The water is delicious — clear, 
sweet and strong, and for two hours afterwards I talked 
in rhyme : 

" He now can drink who chooses, 
At the Fountain of the Muses, 
For the ancient gods and goddesses 
And the nymphs in scanty bodices, 
Are now no more detected 
In the shrines to them erected. 
Nothing but the lonely pelican 
Now inhabits famous Helicon, 
And the only Fauns and Satyrs 
Are the Greeks who plant petaters; 
Dirty, lousy, lazy beggars, 
Scarcely better than our niggers, 
Unworthy even to clean the shoes-es 
Of Apollo and the Muses, f 

*A reference to a passage in Immermann's "Mtinchhausen," which 
we had read shortly before. 

f"In Greece and Russia," page 223, this letter has been used in a 
different form. 



56 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

" At this place is the cave of Trophonius, once a famous 
oracle. It is a wonderfully wild, picturesque spot; and 
would make a charming sketch, only the rain falls so 
heavily that I cannot take it. I have only made two 
sketches as yet, but hope to bring you ten at least. We 
shall probably have good weather after this rain is done, 
and I still hope we shall get back in fifteen days. . . . 
The nightingales are singing deliciously. Over against us 
is Daulis, where Philomela became the first nightingale." 

Taylor brought back from his Grecian trips not only 
sketches, but also a flower, a fern, a twig of laurel or olive 
from every classic place he visited. These I carefully 
pressed between sheets of paper, and pasted them after- 
ward into an album, with the names of the places where 
they were plucked. I still possess this relic. 

Meanwhile I kept up a lively correspondence with my 
mother, and thus learned that my father had received 
from the King of Belgium the Commander's Cross of 
the Order of Leopold — "a beautiful, large order, to be 
worn around the neck." Besides that, the Duke and 
Duchess, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Baden, 
the Princess Marie of Baden, and the Princes of Lein- 
ingen had come to see the new Observatory. 

"They came unannounced at noon," wrote my mother, 
"while I was out, and father in dressing gown and 
slippers. The Duke came first, and saw father, who had 
recognised his voice, on the stairs in this costume. ' Oh, ' 
he said, 'if you only put on other shoes it will be all 
right.' Father asked them to step into the Saal and 
then dressed quickly. The strange Princes were very 
much pleased with the Observatory, and the Duke seems 



RETURN TO GOTHA 57 

to be well satisfied with it, or he would not have come 
again. They are coming in the evening soon to look 
at the sky." 

Early in May we bade adieu to Athens and Greece, and 
returned by way of Constantinople, the Black Sea, and 
the Danube to Germany and our Thuringian home. There 
my little daughter was born in the late summer, and with 
this occurrence the traveller Bayard Taylor was again 
metamorphosed into the poet. When our baby was 
eight weeks old we departed for the home of my husband, 
which was thenceforth to be my own. It was a grievous 
parting. 



* 



CHAPTER V 

Outre Mer 

After a voyage of nineteen days on the old Saxonia, 
of the Hamburg line, we arrived in the harbour of New 
York during the night of October 2 2d. The moon shone 
clear and bright as I stood on the steamer's deck and 
looked out upon a new world with all it concealed for me 
in the veiled future. Next morning the wide beautiful 
harbour was revealed, with its countless ships, its ferry- 
boats like~low swimming houses, crossing hither and yon; 
to the left the rolling hills of the Staten Island shore, 
to the right the roof line of the metropolis, and between 
these the broad waters of the Hudson merging into the 
bay. Not long after our arrival at the Astor House 
friends of my husband began to drop in to bid him 
welcome and to take a look at the wife whom he had 
brought from a foreign land. This wife was over- 
whelmed with a feeling of apprehension until she dis- 
covered that everyone met her with evident good-will. 
Among our first visitors was Horace Greeley, of ponderous 
form, with a round face, a healthy complexion, light-blue 
eyes, long, scanty, pale-yellow hair, and a pleasant, half 
absent-minded expression. After him came Charles 
Dana, then second editor of the Tribune, jovial and ver- 
satile, who spoke German almost without an accent, and 
George P. Putnam, the intelligent publisher of Bayard 
Taylor's prose works, who greeted me with cordial 

58 



OUTRE MER 59 

bonhomie. Other guests were the Stoddards,* whom I 
was especially glad to meet, as they were intimate friends 
of my husband. Of medium stature and slender build, 
with dark hair and beard, he was all open-heartedness, 
candid in everything he said, and bubbling over with 
wit and humour. She was smaller, her hair was dark 
brown and very thick, her eyes a dark gray, while her 
features indicated a decided character combined with 
great intensity and esprit. All her utterances were 
cleverly turned, and she vied with her husband in witty 
remarks. She at once took possession of me on the 
certain presumption that we should be friends ; and after 
the many years which have intervened, considering the 
great divergence of our characters and dispositions, 
she still remains that one among my friends with whom 
I am most intimate and in whose society I find the greatest 
mental stimulus.! 

We did not tarry long in the city. We longed for the 
country, where parents, brothers and sisters were await- 
ing us, and where my husband expected to build his home. 
After a short stay in New York we proceeded southward 
to Kennett Square, situated thirty-four miles south of 
Philadelphia and sixty miles north of Baltimore. As the 
railway from the former city to Kennett was then in 
process of construction, we were obliged to travel as far 
as Wilmington, Delaware, whence a drive of fourteen 
miles in a northwesterly direction brought us to our 
destination. It was my first experience of the rough 
country roads of Chester County, the neglected condition 

*Richard Henry and Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard. 

fSince the above was written Mrs. Stoddard died, in August, 1902, 
and Mr. Stoddard followed her the ensuing year. 



6o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

of which is a reproach to the progressive spirit of the 
people of that section. Nevertheless the countryside 
through which our primitive road led us after we had left 
the valley of the Delaware was so lovely, so idyllic, that 
I forgot how bad it was under foot. We skirted hills 
and valleys, tilled land, and green woods in changeful 
succession; hedged fields with here and there a single 
wide-branched tree casting its broad shadow, and mea- 
dows through which a brook fringed with willows mean- 
dered along, where fine herds of cattle were grazing, or 
resting in the lush herbage. Anon we passed gentle 
slopes overgrown with bowers of foliage, of maple, 
sycamore, walnut, chestnut, locust and sassafras. Tangled 
thickets intervened with grapevines clambering to the 
treetops, and in damp hollows an exquisite wilderness 
of flowers and ferns ran riot. Nestled among sheltering 
clumps of trees the farmhouses lay scattered here and 
there, surrounded by orchards and barns which were often 
larger and more pretentious than the modest dwellings. 
There is no other village between Wilmington and Ken- 
nett Square, which at that time had a population of 
about five hundred inhabitants. After leaving the latter 
place the road continued to the north between fields of 
corn stubble and green winter wheat a short mile to a 
beautiful piece of woodland at the left. "Our wood!" 
my husband exclaimed. On the right, where a lane 
diverged between the fields, the youngest brother and 
sister suddenly burst out from behind a clump of trees, 
and with the cry "We couldn't wait any longer!" 
Emma sprang upon one step of the carriage, and Fred 
upon the other, and both embraced us with tears and 
laughter. A short distance beyond the farmhouse lay 



OUTRE MER 61 

before us, where our welcome was no less warm and 
hearty, if not quite so boisterous. My mother-in-law 
at once seized upon her grandchild, and I willingly gave 
it into her care, for the new impressions which had crowded 
in upon me during the last few days and my unaccus- 
tomed surroundings had robbed me for the time being 
of the circumspection necessary to provide well for my 
little daughter. I did not feel entirely at ease again 
until I sat down in the midst of the assembled family 
to a dinner table loaded to profusion, and was at 
liberty to study the many strange faces. According to 
country fashion all the dishes were put upon the table 
at the same time. A large juicy ham occupied one 
end, an immense roast of beef the other, and between 
were placed five or six kinds of vegetables, sweet and 
sour preserves, and an assortment of pies. It was not 
customary to have soup, and, as I discovered later, in 
those days this course did not belong to an ordinary 
menu even in the cities. It also surprised me to see the 
plates passed around and filled with a helping from every 
dish. When my plate at last reached me I was secretly 
frightened at the wealth of good things which was heaped 
upon it. The only eatables lacking were the pies, which 
served as dessert. 

The succeeding days were full of excitement. Begin- 
ning with the morrow a long procession of relatives and 
friends of the family came to bid us welcome. The major- 
ity of the numerous Taylor family in all its branches 
(my husband used to say he had so many cousins that he 
would be willing to sell some of them at twenty-five 
cents a hundred), as well as of its many friends and 
acquaintances, belonged to the religious society of the 



62 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Quakers or, as they preferred to be called, "Friends." 
In their peculiar manner of dress, with its entire absence 
of colour, in the simplicity of their speech and of their 
whole behaviour, which was not lacking in a certain 
quiet dignity, the Quakers interested me greatly from 
the very beginning and I soon learned to love and esteem 
them. 

My husband's ancestors had belonged to this sect 
since the days of William Penn ; his paternal grandfather, 
however, committed the grave offense of marrying a wife 
of the Lutheran faith. For this misdeed he lost his 
birthright, and thenceforward neither he nor his descend- 
ants were members of the Society. Nevertheless, his 
children and grandchildren still adhered to the funda- 
mental principles and to a great extent also to the man- 
ners and customs of the Quakers; and therein lay the 
source of Bayard Taylor's morality and of his religious 
beliefs, so free from any kind of dogmatism. 

Almost all the people whom I met, and among whom 
my life was to be spent in future, were the descendants 
of the original settlers, who had left England one or 
two centuries before, driven forth by religious or political 
persecution. The first Taylor, Robert by name, was one 
of the companions of William Penn in his expedition 
to the new world. He settled in the southeasterly 
district of the wide territory which owes its name to that 
great Quaker and friend of humanity. He came from 
Warwickshire in the year 1681, and was the ancestor 
in direct line of Bayard Taylor. His descendants had 
lived on the same lands for almost two hundred years, 
and Joseph Taylor, my father-in-law, owned a portion 
of them. In the two generations preceding my husband 



OUTRE MER 63 

an admixture of German blood had been infused into 
the old English stock. The grandmother, for whose 
sake John Taylor allowed himself to be expelled from 
Quaker "meeting," came from Lancaster County, and 
was a descendant of those German and Swiss Protestants 
who were driven from the Palatinate by religious persecu- 
tion at the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the 
eighteenth centuries. Not only my husband's grand- 
mother, who never learned to speak English fluently, 
but his mother also was descended on the maternal side 
from those Pennsylvania " Dutch" colonists. The latter, 
however, did not speak German easily, and although 
brought up as a Lutheran, soon adopted the religious 
beliefs of the Quakers. 

She was a woman of a lively intellect and a cheery, 
vivacious temperament, combined with great energy. 
She possessed the gift of always looking upon the bright 
side of every situation, and under less circumscribed 
conditions, with a higher education, she would have been 
a distinguished woman. But to her it was sufficient to 
be Bayard Taylor's mother; it was the crowning joy of 
her life. She alone had understood the aspirations of his 
youth, and had taken his part against conditions which 
were antagonistic to him. She secretly supplied him 
with books, and gave him opportunity to gratify his 
desire for knowledge by inventing excuses to keep him 
away from the hated farm labour. 

Although her son had inherited the nature and excel- 
lent qualities of his mother, in external appearance he 
resembled his father. Contrasted with the vivacious 
energy of his wife, Joseph Taylor showed a placidity and 
unconcern, which was a disadvantage to him in the 



64 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

successful tillage of his land. Perhaps in another calling 
he would have accomplished better results, for he was by 
no means lacking in sagacity or in the executive abilities 
of an employer. His tall stature and dignified carriage 
gave him the appearance of a handsome man even in his 
old age. 

The inherited farm comprised about 150 acres of field 
and woodland, with hills and meadow. The farm- 
house lay off the main road, and a broad avenue of pines 
and spruce trees winding between the fields led down to 
it. The house, not overlarge, was built of wood with a 
covered porch over the front door, shaded by a group of 
lofty trees, under whose shadow a hammock was sus- 
pended. ~ Thick hedges of box defined the open space 
before the house and the flower beds of the adjoining 
garden. 

A glorious October day dawned on the morrow of our 
arrival, as perfect as one could wish for the first inspection 
of one's future home. The entrance to our land was 
through a gate just across the main road from the lane 
to the "old house" (my father-in-law's farm). After 
traversing a grove of old oak, hickory, and chestnut 
trees, we came out upon a large open space, on the 
highest point of which our house was to be built. The 
land sloped gradually southward down to the main road 
in a broad stretch of grass : a natural lawn set with small 
groups of wild cedars. In the far distance the dim blue 
outlines of a chain of hills could be discerned, faint in 
the haze of the Indian summer. In every other direction 
the building site was surrounded by park-like groves of 
trees, with pleasant vistas over fields and wooded slopes, 
a beautiful panorama which filled me with delight. Art 



OUTRE MER 65 

could not have produced anything more perfect than un- 
assisted Nature had created here during the fifty years 
when she had worked her will unrestrained. We owed 
this circumstance to the whim of a rich old farmer, the 
former owner of the land, who had let this tract of eighty 
acres lie fallow, and paid no attention to it during his 
whole life, as it lay at some distance from his farmhouse 
and was supposed to be of little value. But the qualities 
which roused the farmer's displeasure were just those 
which delighted the poet. He had been the owner of 
the land for several years past, and had added to the 
original purchase another eighty acres — bought partly 
from his father, partly from an uncle. This tract lay to 
the southeast of the first, separated from it by the main 
road. It contained an old stone farmhouse, a barn, 
stable, and dairy springhouse. 

Although we had fixed upon the site for our home, the 
means for its erection were still in great part to be sup- 
plied, a task by no means difficult at a time when east 
and west in this broad country public lectures by promi- 
nent men were in great demand and well paid for. They 
were a necessity to the people of those days and served 
as a means of education to the great middle stratum of 
the population and equally as a source of entertainment 
to the more cultured. Bayard Taylor had already been a 
popular lecturer on his return from his travels in the 
Orient, and had acquired a considerable sum of money in 
this way. The proposals for him to deliver lectures began 
to pour in upon him again from all sides when he had 
hardly set foot upon his native soil. Great preparations 
were not necessary to fulfil the expectations of the average 
audience. The public wished to hear from him principally 



66 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

how things looked and happened in foreign countries, 
what kinds of people, customs, and conditions he had 
met with abroad, and what inferences he would draw 
from what he had seen. My husband was not a born 
orator, but had adapted himself to the profitable tem- 
porary profession of a lecturer, because it was demanded 
of him. His harmonious voice and smooth fluent speech 
were decidedly in his favour. The lectures were soon to 
begin, and, with a few short interruptions, were to con- 
tinue for several months. Before this happened our 
future house was staked out and the work of digging for 
the foundations was begun. One day we went over to 
the site to inspect the progress made. It was a wonder- 
ful day in November, and while we were enjoying the 
warm sunshine and balmy air of that latitude, praising 
anew the beautiful situation of the house-to-be, we sud- 
denly were aware of an eagle circling far above us in 
the blue sky. Like ancient Romans we greeted his 
appearance as a happy omen for the future which awaited 
us in this place. 

About this time we heard that George William Curtis 
was to deliver a lecture in West Chester, a town fourteen 
miles distant, on "Democracy and Education." As he 
was not only a near friend of my husband, but also had 
the reputation of being an excellent speaker, it seemed 
a matter of course that we should drive over to West 
Chester and hear him. We met him at the inn, a hand- 
some man with brilliant gray eyes, strong intellectual 
features, full of character, light-brown hair and whiskers, 
and a tall, noble presence of winning gentleness. Joined 
to all this he had a deep mellow voice which at once 
prepossessed his audience in his favour. As soon as he 



OUTRE MER 67 

entered the hall he was received with storms of applause 
by the great concourse of people that crowded the large 
building. As both he and my husband, who walked 
beside him, were popular authors, all eyes were centred 
upon them. My two sisters-in-law and I followed, 
passing through the audience that crowded to the right 
and left of us, until we reached the platform. Those 
were awkward moments for me, as I knew that my hum- 
ble personage also was an object of curiosity. I hardly 
dared raise my eyes, while my companions looked about 
them and noticed how the people nudged one another 
and whispered: "Look, look, that is Bayard's wife!" 
It was the first occasion on which I appeared in public 
with my husband, and although I was to a certain extent 
proud to be the wife of a distinguished man, at the same 
time I deeply felt the heavy responsibility of such a 
position. I told myself how much was expected of me 
and how little I could offer. 

After the lecture was over a number of persons from 
among the audience came upon the platform to be intro- 
duced. One of them was the aged Dr. Darlington,* who 
had received the news of my marriage with almost the 
same words as Alexander von Humboldt. The latter, 
when Taylor told him of his engagement to a daughter of 
Hansen, said in his usual charming manner : " When you 
visit me again bring her with you. I must be polite 
enough to live until then." 

Before we started on our drive home, at a late hour, we 
went into the inn again with Curtis. A gentleman and 
two ladies were the only other occupants of the public 

*A well-known botanist, and author of an excellent work on the 
flora of Chester County, entitled "Flora Cestrica." 



68 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

parlour. We paid no further attention to them, as they 
sat together in a far corner of the spacious room. Shortly- 
after we had seated ourselves Taylor exclaimed in his 
usual lively way: " George, don't you want something to 
drink?" Whereupon Curtis, more on his guard than his 
impulsive friend, answered, "Do people drink here?" 
"Don't you drink after lecturing?" Taylor replied; "I 
always do. I drink a glass of ale." When, soon after, 
the other three guests left the room Annie Taylor began 
laughing heartily. " Do you know who those people 
were?" she said to her brother, and then mentioned the 
names of a fanatical temperance reformer and of two of 
his most zealous supporters. Funny as this was in fact, 
it had an awkward side also, since the temperance advo- 
cates are a power in the countryside and were able to put 
a not entirely abstaining fellow-mortal under the ban of 
suspicion to such an extent that he was soon accused of 
being given to drink and utterly lost. Scarcely a year 
before a neighbouring temperance orator had dared in a 
public speech to make open allusions to Bayard Taylor's 
sisters and brother, who had just returned from Europe, 
saying it were better that the ocean had turned into 
a sea of fire rather than that young Americans had 
learned to drink wine beyond its farther shore. Even 
beer was condemned by these so-called reformers, and 
somewhat later a cousin of my husband, a favourite with 
everyone, was expelled from the Temperance Society 
for having drunk "soft" cider (for having eaten an 
apple, according to her own laughing version). Naturally 
all this appeared very strange and wonderful to my 
European mind. 

Early in December we left the farm and went to Brook- 



OUTRE MER 69 

lyn to live, where we shared a rented house with Mr. and 
Mrs. Stoddard. My husband had made this arrange- 
ment so that I, still a stranger to my new country, should 
have the companionship of these trusted friends during 
his absences. Nor did we separate in the following win- 
ter; they accompanied us to New York, and we kept 
house together in the latter city. 

Our first Christmas Eve in America we celebrated as 
a joyous feast. I instituted the German custom, which 
was then almost unknown in this country, of trimming a 
Christmas tree procured for me by my husband. Under 
its branches, with their many bright candles, lay the 
presents which we exchanged. For our German supper I 
had brewed a bowl of cardinal punch, which was duly 
appreciated, and put Taylor in mind of Kenyon's " Cham- 
pagne Rose, ' ' the reciting of which was followed by Stod- 
dard's reading a song in praise of claret, by Alexander 
Brome, "dead over two hundred years." 

Soon after, my husband took up his travels again, and 
was away more or less until spring. When he started 
once more early in January, after a short stay in New 
York, we made an attempt to visit his old patron, N. P. 
Willis,* at Idlewild-on-the-Hudson, but were obliged to 
give up the attempt on our way thither, on account of 
sudden unusually cold weather. While my husband 
continued on his journey, I turned back to New York. 
Next day he wrote to me from the little town of Hudson : 

" I feel a little anxious to hear that you have reached 
home safely, without being frozen. It was well that we 

_ * Willis was very fond of taking rising young authors and poets under 
his protecting wing, a fact which gave R. H. Stoddard opportunity 
lor a bon-mot; "Willis," he said, "was the wet nurse of American 
literature." 



70 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

did not attempt to cross the river yesterday. The air 
was 1 5 below zero on the ice, and the wind almost took 
my head off. I crossed in a large sleigh, with eight persons, 
drawn by one horse, and the ice was so smooth that we 
continually whirled around like a top. . . . However, 
I reached Kingston in season, and notwithstanding the 
weather, had an audience of 600 persons — the largest 
of the season. This morning we had 14 below zero, 
but now it has risen to 4 above, and promises a snow 
storm. The cold was the greatest ever known in New 
York, so you know how cold it can be." 

Very different was the tenor of another letter of 
March 13th from Detroit: 

"I reached here at eleven o'clock last night, and read 
your three letters before going to bed. The news from 
home — the description of Lily's growth and development 
— and the thought of seeing you so soon, kept me awake 
for a long time. To-day I have been perfectly lazy and 
happy — the weather is divine ; no other word will express 
it. We had no day in Athens lovelier than this. Not a 
cloud in the sky, the air a luxury to breathe, and the 
lake here sparkling like the ^Egaean Sea!" 

In the course of the year I twice accompanied my 
husband on lecturing journeys, which gave me an oppor- 
tunity to become acquainted with wide regions of the 
country. In the spring he took me with him into the 
Middle West, and in August we took passage together 
for California. Both trips were full of new and interesting 
sights; the impressions which I received are faithfully 
reflected in the notes of my travels which I wrote down 
for my parents. They were penned many years ago, and 
describe conditions and scenes which have long ceased to 



OUTRE MER 71 

exist or have yielded to a new and more civilised life. 
For this reason some extracts may be of interest. 

''May, 1859. — The sun rose gloriously as the train 
carried us into the beautiful wild forest regions of Ohio. 
For many, many miles forest and nothing but forest, 
which the railway traverses almost in a straight line. 
Since the road was built people have begun to clear the 
virgin growth here and there; settlers who could find no 
home anywhere else came, and with their axes and the 
help of fire won the ground on which to build their log 
cabins and to plow their first plot of land. Some pioneers 
had achieved a green field, while others still had the 
gigantic task before them, having accomplished only the 
building of a miserable hut surrounded by the smouldering 
trunks of trees. At other places better results had been 
obtained. Little villages had sprung up, and comfort 
seemed to walk hand in hand with labour. But between 
them stretched the most luxuriant, the greenest forest, 
untouched by the hand of man, where Nature had held 
undisputed sway for thousands of years, and had de- 
stroyed or built up as primeval laws had dictated. 
Through the whole of Ohio and Indiana we had this 
magnificent mysterious woodland almost constantly 
on either hand. Toward evening the trees began to 
grow more sparse and finally merged into an extensive 
meadow land, whose treacherous green sprang from a 
marshy soil. Then followed more woods, and once in 
a while a still, motionless lake, until gloomy waters came 
into view on both sides of the track, while the sun -was 
sinking in glowing tones of red and orange. Along the 
northern horizon lay a bluish streak, which showed us 
that we were not far distant from Lake Michigan." 

" (Two days later.) Our road to-day lay through the 
'rolling' prairie. A peculiar feeling of freedom and of 



72 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

peacefulness lays hold of the spectator. Toward every 
point of the compass the prairie seems limitless. No- 
where does the eye meet with a check ; no fence, no hedge 
marks a boundary; the horses and cattle graze unre- 
stricted, or the herd, pausing beside a small brook, seeks 
the shade of some nearby oaks, lies in the grass, or stands 
in the water cooling its flanks in the clear stream. The eye 
of the traveller wanders from this idyllic picture to the 
long, swelling lines of the prairie fading away into the dim 
horizon, and it will seldom meet with a sight more lovely." 

" On the evening of the second day we went aboard 
the small steamer which was to carry us up the Missis- 
sippi to St. Paul. The trip, which occupied several days 
— the boat steamed between the low and sparsely settled 
banks of the river and past numerous small green is- 
lands — was not without its charm. — Saturday evening 
we finally arrived in St. Paul. The ten-year-old city, 
with its 10,000 inhabitants, rises in a series of ter- 
races on both sides of the broad river. As in all these 
new towns of the West, the dwelling houses are built 
separately, scattered over a disproportionately large 
area. Here also everything is still in the rough and 
incomplete; it is evident that the buildings were put 
up in haste, and that the settlers had an eye more to 
business profit than to comfort and convenience. I know 
of nothing more uncongenial than such a youthful city, 
much as I admire the courage and energy to which it 
owes its existence. St. Anthony, not far distant, with its 
falls of the Mississippi reminding me of the Rhine falls 
at Schaflhausen, and the four-year-old town of Minne- 
apolis across the river, are situated at the end of civilisa- 
tion. North of these two places the only inhabitants are 
Indians, bears and wolves." 

It was our turning point, and after an absence of four 
weeks we were at last again united with our little daughter 



OUTRE MER 73 

at the old farm near Kennett Square. During the follow- 
ing month my husband was occupied with literary work, 
at the same time superintending the building of our 
house. Not long after our return the cornerstone was laid. 
The building after that progressed rapidly and con- 
sumed a much larger sum of money than its builder 
had calculated; therefore, when in the course of the 
summer he received a most favourable offer to deliver 
a series of lectures in San Francisco, he accepted for the 
sake of the remuneration. The lecture committee of 
that city was willing to pay him his travelling expenses 
and $1,500 for four lectures, with the privilege of making 
engagements of a similar nature in other towns in Cali- 
fornia. About the beginning of August we left our twelve 
months '-old baby in the care of her grandmother and 
aunts and set out upon our long ocean journey by way 
of the Isthmus of Panama — a wonderfully beautiful 
voyage, particularly upon the Pacific. On this side 
of Panama one of our fellow-passengers was Commodore 
Montgomery, an agreeable old gentleman. While we 
were gliding over the waters of the Caribbean Sea, under 
a tropical full moon — "ringed with gay rainbows" — he 
told us how he was the first to plant the American colours 
in California in 1846. He was then a captain in the 
navy, under command of Commodore Slod, whose 
squadron lay before Mazatlan, in Mexico, where the 
English were also anchored. As there were rumours 
abroad of a war between the United States and Mexico, 
the Americans were only waiting for a suitable opportu- 
nity to take possession of California, which was sparsely 
settled by Mexicans. But they were not the only nation 
with an eye to this goodly land. Mexico was deep in 



74 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

debt to England, and for this reason the English con- 
sidered that they had a right to California as a pledge. 
This was the state of affairs, when Commodore Slod 
suddenly gave orders to his fleet to sail for South America. 
With secret joy the English, watching from the decks of 
their frigates, saw the sails of the American ships one 
after another disappear beyond the southern horizon, 
and believed that now was the proper moment to throw 
out their drag-net and haul in their beautiful prize. 
But what was their astonishment when they cast anchor 
before Monterey to find the Stars and Stripes floating 
above the Mexican fort ! As soon as the Commodore was 
out of sight of land, instead of keeping his course south- 
ward, he ordered his squadron to about ship and sail for 
the north. Montgomery with his frigate was sent ahead. He 
found the population of Monterey in revolt and inclined to 
side with the Americans, and taking advantage of this state 
of popular feeling, in accordance with his instructions, he 
succeeded in hoisting the Star Spangled Banner upon the 
Mexican fort without stroke of sword, thus taking posses- 
sion of California in the name of the United States. 

The balmy climate, the glorious city of San Francisco 
enthroned upon her hills, the beauty of the seacoast, 
enhanced by the classic outlines of the near and distant 
mountains — all combined to awaken a sense of delight and 
exhilaration such as I had not anticipated. Even 
Taylor, who had been in California in 1849, and had seen 
the earliest stages of her development, received an 
absolutely new impression. After looking around he 
exclaimed in astonishment: "Here we have Spanish, 
African, Greek and Palestinian elements in the landscape, 
all at the same time!" 



OUTRE MER 75 

Intervals of several weeks elapsed between the lectures 
in San Francisco. Meanwhile my husband spoke in the 
large and small towns before audiences of the most 
diverse character, before educated people, settlers from 
the Eastern states, as well as before gold miners and 
rough-looking men. I accompanied him on his expedi- 
tions into the wildest regions, sometimes in the old- 
fashioned stage coach, sometimes in a comfortable 
carriage, and several times up in the Sierra Nevada on 
horseback, where adventures, funny and serious, were not 
lacking. In the large district of the gold mines I had 
occasion to witness the four different methods of obtaining 
the precious metal. In order to see the interior of a gold 
mine I had to submit to be shot down a steep incline, 
crouched in a tiny car, into the depths 200 feet below. 

But I pass over all our diverse experiences and hasten 
homeward, back to our child, whom we joyfully clasped 
in our arms again in the month of November. 

After a short stay at the farm we settled in New York, 
where the house was ready for us, and I began to ac- 
climatise myself socially during this and the following 
winter. New York, although a metropolis in those days, 
was, after all, a small city in comparison to its present 
importance and extent. The changes of all kinds that 
have taken place in the last forty years are such that the 
younger generation of to-day can have no conception of 
things as they then were. The development of the whole 
country went hand in hand with that of New York. 
After the Civil War a number of men became multi- 
millionaires and plutocracy increased more and more. 
Under the influence of these colossal fortunes and of the 
ever-increasing flood of immigration the rich resources 



76 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

of the land were rapidly exploited and the building of 
the transcontinental railways joined the Pacific to the 
Atlantic Ocean. The vast regions in the centre of the 
country, hitherto inaccessible, were populated, and the 
great West, which now represents a power in the land, was 
born. When I made my debut in New York no one 
suspected that these changes would come to pass. People 
felt only a faint premonition of the grand development of 
the nation. The international relations with Europe 
were not close, and every-day life, as well as many 
social usages, manifested strongly the primitive character 
of their civilisation. In those days great simplicity 
prevailed, even in the well-to-do families of New York, 
in their mode of life and the furnishing of their houses. 
The exclusive circle of descendants of aristocratic families 
from Colonial times (mostly of Dutch origin) had not 
yet been pushed to the wall by the plutocrats and formed 
the self-constituted elite of society. Equally eminent 
was the small group of intellectual and genial men and 
women, masters of the pen, the brush and the chisel. 
Among these freedom of mind, agreeable manners, good 
taste, a sparkling wit and lively, suggestive conversation 
reigned supreme. 

Such was the society into which I was introduced. 
But when I recall the acquaintances and friends whom 
I knew in those years, whose names for the most part 
have a well-known and a pleasant sound in their native 
land, with few exceptions they are now but 

"A memory and a name." 

Poets, authors and artists were welcomed in our always 
hospitable house, and Stoddard wrote in later years of 



OUTRE MER 77 

that time: "We were a nest of singing birds." George 
H. Boker, whose drama "Francesca da Rimini" was 
just being enacted, sometimes dropped in from Phila- 
delphia; T. B. Aldrich, who had made his d6but as a poet, 
was a frequent guest, and Edmund Clarence Stedman 
soon after became a member of our circle and one of our 
nearest friends. Taylor one day announced him to 
Stoddard as a new poet, whose acquaintance he had 
just made. "A new poet?" said Stoddard, shrugging 
his shoulders; "and what has he written?" '"The 
Diamond Wedding,'" was the answer; "the poem which 
you read yesterday in the paper. And I have invited 
him to visit us, for I know you will like him." * Charles 
G. Leland, the painter Thomas Hicks, with their wives, 
Fitz-Hugh Ludlow and his wife (afterward Mrs. Albert 
Bierstadt) belonged to our inner coterie, to which were 
later added Jervis McEntee and his charming wife, and 
Sanford R. Gifford, both landscape painters and genial 
men. Another guest of the early times was Orlando W. 
Wight (the translator of "Heloise and Abelard"), who 
had a funny habit, when addressing anyone, of laying 
his white-gloved hand upon his heart with a sigh and 
a flourish. 

I very soon made the acquaintance of Mrs. Botta,f 
and met the sisters Susan and Anna Warner at one of her 
evening receptions. The literary productions of the 
former (under the pen name of Elizabeth Wetherell), 

*From Stoddard's speech at a dinner given in honour of Stedman 
in 1899. According to Stedman's own recollection, his poem about 
John Brown was the one that gave him Bayard Taylor's friendship, 
after the latter had chanced to read it on one of his Western trips. 

fMiss Anne Lynch, noted in early life for her poems and her literary 
salon, was married to Vincenzo Botta, of Turin, who received the title 
of Commendatore from Victor Emanuel in the seventies. 



7 8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"The Wide, Wide World" and "Queechy," books that 
are now not wholly forgotten, enjoyed a wide popularity, 
and had even penetrated to Germany, where I had read 
them. The two ladies, no longer in the heyday of youth, 
lived upon an island in the Hudson opposite West Point, 
but came to New York occasionally. They were feted 
on account of their literary renown, especially by those 
who were in sympathy with the pious tendencies of their 
works. 

Miss Susan, the elder, was so firmly persuaded of 
the infallibility of her religious views that after making 
the acquaintance of Thackeray, when he came to New 
York in 1856, she said of him one evening at a party: 
" He is ah excellent man, but there is a whole world he 
knows nothing of — a world which I know." Later in 
the evening, when refreshments were served, Mrs. 
Stoddard made one of her witty remarks at the expense 
of the Misses Warner. Alluding to the long necks of 
these ladies, she whispered to my husband: "Look at 
the giraffes grazing!" 

Of other notabilities I must not omit the sisters Alice 
and Phoebe Cary, who were esteemed for themselves as 
well as for their writings. Greeley was one of their 
admirers and intimate friends, and rarely missed one of 
their social evening parties. Spiritualism had many 
adherents in those days, and the sisters, who were inclined 
to place credence in its manifestations, frequently held 
seances at their home. Strange tales were told of the 
happenings on these occasions. I was never sufficiently 
curious to take part in one of these meetings, and the 
attempts of Mrs. Greeley to win me over to spiritualism 
were without avail. Everyone who knew the latter 



OUTRE MER 79 

knows also what a peculiar woman she was. The very- 
first winter that I spent in New York she wished to 
make my acquaintance, and extended an invitation to 
me to come to one of her receptions, which I ac- 
cepted for Greeley's sake. When I arrived with my 
companions we found the latter alone in the drawing- 
room; some other guests appeared, but Mrs. Greeley 
was not in evidence. Her husband was visibly embar- 
rassed, and sent to inform her of our presence, doing 
his utmost in the meantime to play the amiable host, 
and every few minutes expressing the hope that his 
wife would soon come down. The evening passed and 
we were on the point of taking our departure when 
Mrs. Greeley appeared at the head of the stairs. After 
exchanging a few words with her we left the house. 
In this and other similar trials Greeley never for a 
moment lost the saintly patience with which he treated 
his wife. 

I met William Cullen Bryant, the aged poet with the 
Homeric head, at one of the always popular soirees in the 
house of Dr. Edward Robinson, the author of a celebrated 
topographical work on Palestine. His talented German 
wife * when a young girl, had published a translation of 
Servian folks-songs under the name of Talvy, and had 
thereby earned the distinction of a laudatory remark 
from Goethe, f 

During these experiences in society I was deprived of 
the companionship of my husband, who was heroically 
earning the means for building our house by lecturing in 
distant towns. During his frequent absences we sought 

* A daughter of Dr. von Jacob, of Halle. 

fEckermann's "Gesprache mit Goethe," Vol. I, page 130. 



80 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

to comfort each other by the exchange of almost daily 
letters. In one of these he replied to a passage in a 
letter of mine: 

" I am curious to see Stedman's Penelope. Don't 
compare yourself to that old Greek strong-minded female. 
You may have her constancy (I believe you have) and, 
like her, spend twenty years on one piece of crochet-work 
— but I am not a Ulysses, for all that, and I don't want 
you to have suitors during my absence, as she had." 

My husband could never under any circumstances 
renounce his humorous vein, of which his letters furnish 
abundant proof. In the winter months of 1859 to 1862 
he often solaced himself on his travels by sending home 
long accounts of his adventures by the way, of queer 
occurrences that could hardly happen nowadays, when 
the population at large has grown less simple minded. 
Here is one of them: 

"I shall not describe the day's jaunt, further than to 
relate to you The Triumph of Weidenfeld ! * On reaching 
a village called Middletown, we discovered that one of the 
tires was broken, and stopped to have it mended. I was 
sitting in the tavern, where various Sunday loafers were 
congregated, when one of them came up to me suddenly, 
drew his chair beside me, sat down, lifted up the tail of my 
overcoat, spread it over his knee and began to examine it. 
'Well,' said he, 'that you might call a coat! I swan, it 
makes my mouth water.' Another man spoke up and 
said: 'I seed what it was jest from looking at the back 
of it. It took right hold of my heart ! ' Then began the 
exclamations — ' What is the name of that cloth? ' ' Why, 
it's tough as buckskin, and tight as injy-rubber ! ' ' Lined 

* A fashionable tailor at that time. ] 



OUTRE MER 81 

with silk all through!' 'There hain't been no sich 
coat seen in these diggins before!' 'Would you object 
to stand up, like, and show how it hangs ? ' The price of 
it rather staggered them, for they all seemed inclined to 
get just such coats for themselves. When the tire was 
mended, they all came out into the road, and their eyes 
were fixed upon the coat until we drove off." 

From Pittsburg my husband wrote, January 29th: 

"I have had a hard time this week — took cold on 
Monday, which made me very hoarse, and have been 
howling and barking huskily at the audiences. Drink 
red pepper tea in a bottle every hour or two — people 
think it brandy. . . . Talk in tragic whispers, 
which has a solemn effect. . . . Popularity tre- 
mendous — people come forty-eight miles through the 
mud to hear me — mothers hold up their infants to look 
upon the great man, or hand them over to be kissed, 
owing to which my moustache is full of molasses." 

Another time he said : 

"You would never guess that merchants, livery- 
stable keepers, mechanics and day laborers are among 
my admirers. The crowd was composed entirely of such. 
The baggage man on the train said to everybody, ' B. T. 
is in the car — he is a big writer.' 'What did he write?' 
asked a man. 'I don't know what it was,' was the 
reply, but he's the biggest kind of a writer! ' " 

In a letter from Springfield, 111., occurs this anecdote: 

" I gave the driver my little wicker-bottle occasionally, 
in order to make the horses go faster. He told me a 
good story of some Eastern man, who travelled in Illinois 



82 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

twenty years ago, 'when the liquor was wuss than it 
is now.' This man reached a tavern one night after a 
hard day's ride and called for brandy. There was a 
nigger sitting in the bar-room, whom he called up to the 
bar to take a drink. The darkey poured out half a glass 
of brandy and drank it — the traveller let the bottle stand. 
'Well,' said the landlord, 'ain't you a-goin' to drink, too?' 
'I'm going to wait twenty minutes,' he answered, 'and 
if it don't kill the nigger, I'll take some myself.'" 

The following letter I quote entire, for obvious 
reasons : 

"My dearest wife, 
Upon my life 

I am not particularly inspired 
To write when I am tired. 
However, this will tell you 
That I do not expel you 
From my thoughts when away, 
By night or by day. 
I lectured last night in Homer, 
(What a misnomer) ! 
And to-day have driven miles thirty, 
Over a road exceedingly dirty, 
To this place, where I lecture, 
So you must not expect your 
Husband to write more which 
He can send from Norwich. 
To-morrow I go to Sherburne 
(Probably in a dearborn), 
And on Friday to Oswego — 
Hardly a place where you'd have me go — 
But now there's no assuagement 
Since I've once made the engagement, 
And on Friday to Cortland, 
Which is rather a short land 



OUTRE MER 83 

To reach from the latter, 

And so it's not much matter. 

On Saturday, as I told you, 

I shall once more behold you. 

I find that the best train 

Is the morning express train, 

Which leaves Binghamton at 1 20, 

And gives me time enough, plenty, 

To get over the Hudson 

Before you've got your duds done 

On Saturday evening, 

So you needn't be grievening. 

Do not the door fasten, 

Because I shall come at J past 10, 

And, as we don't live in cloisters, 

You may get a few oysters 

And make a gentle stew, 

Which I shall enjoy with you. 

I'm in good health and spirits, 

And you'll be glad to hear it's 

Mighty fine weather at last, 

Since the rain is past. 

Write according to my direction, 

And don't disappoint my expection, 

So shall I love you as formerly, 

Only much warmerly, 

And hope you'll never find it a cussed band 

Which unites you to your husband, 

"B. T. 
"Give my love, heavy and thick 
To Lizzy and Dick." 



Taylor would always round out and amplify the 
incidents of his trips upon his return home. Among 
other things, the names he collected were almost incred- 
ible. One day he encountered a woman whose Christian 



84 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

name was "Lettice, with the surname Pray." Another 
time a man introduced his little son as follows: "We 
call him Napoleon, and his little sister we have named 
St. Helena, after Napoleon's wife." 

In the winter of i860, when Taylor again delivered a 
lecture in Detroit, he found to his great delight that the 
room which was assigned to him had a "crimson velvet 
carpet and curtains, rosewood furniture, hot and cold 
water cocks and spring mattress!" . . . "We must 
have a velvet carpet in our bedroom — it is so pleasant to 
the bare feet," was his comment. 

Such a carpet and a crimson velvet dressing gown 
were the refrain of an oft-expressed wish of his that 
never was realised. Susceptible as he was to the ameni- 
ties of life, his habits remained simple and frugal. His 
personal wants were few, and he spent very little on 
himself, only succumbing to the temptation of a work 
of art or a rare book which he could not always resist. 
He delighted also in fresh flowers or fine fruit in winter 
and spared no expense in providing them. 

About this time, in the winter of i860, the reports 
that he received anent the cost of our house began to 
frighten him. It was evident that the contractor was not 
as trustworthy as he had been represented. In January 
my husband wrote to me: 

" I have the pleasure of informing you that our house 
will cost considerably more than I reckoned upon. It has 
already consumed just $13,000, and $2,000 more will 
scarcely cover the rest." 

At the same time the poetic fervour began to manifest 
itself strongly again. On March 18th he wrote: 



OUTRE MER 85 

" I am also much occupied, mentally, with my poems. 
I am fully resolved upon writing a great many, and the 
character of them becomes clearer and warmer as the 
time approaches. You must allow me to keep silent on 
this one point — it is a poetical idiosyncrasy which I cannot 
overcome. You will see them first of any one, after they 
are written." 

And again on the 30th: 

"I commenced a poem on reaching here, and became 
so absorbed in it that I forgot to write to you until this 
moment. I must be quick, as the lecture hour has 
arrived. . . . Don't forget to go to Westermann 
and order Humboldt's letters to V. von Ense for me. 
I must have them. Oh, what I lost, not knowing of 
Appleton's sale. I wanted Purchas His Pilgrims, and it 
went so cheap!" 

Soon after my husband sent me two poems for safe- 
keeping. One was "The Fountain of Trevi," which he 
hoped would please me well. As soon as he was at home 
again these poems were followed at short intervals by 
others, among them the first of the Pennsylvania Ballads, 
"The Quaker Widow." And when he was finally settled 
in his own house, " the freshet of song," that had all along 
been giving signs of its approach, set in. 



CHAPTER VI 

The New Homestead 

The house was a stately mansion built of natural 
brick, with cornerstones of silver-gray granite and 
broad verandas on both sides of a large arched window 
projecting on the southern front. In the second story 
two balconies rested upon the entire length and breadth 
of these porches. Spring was abroad in the land, and 
summer not far distant, when we set up our Lares in our 
own home. Joyous budding and blossoming were going 
on all about us, and it was a delight to step out upon the 
terrace before the house in the early morning and to let 
the eye rest upon the gently sloping lawn with its groups 
of cedars. The luxuriant foliage of the high trees — oaks, 
chestnuts, sassafras, tulip, walnut and gum trees, that 
hedged in the lawn on both sides in natural beauty of 
arrangement — glittered with dew in the morning sun- 
light. The air, soft and mild — for the Northland and the 
South mingle here, 

" . . . where the sprays of the elm first touch the 

plumes of the cypress," * 

was laden with the scent of exuberant vegetation, and at 
the same time refreshing in its balmy purity. Descending 
from the terrace and wandering on the soft turf of the 
woods, our native flora soon offered us a fair nosegay of 

* ' ' Home Pastorals . ' ' 

86 



THE NEW HOMESTEAD 87 

anemones, hepaticas, pink azaleas, yellow violets, and 
those strange, ghostly flowers, the Indian pipes. A little 
farther on, beyond the highway, stood the old stone farm- 
house that had originally belonged to the family, and 
now was a part of our property. A few rods more and 
our farthest wood was reached, where at the foot of 
a ridge a brook babbled and gurgled between fern-clad 
rocks, overhung by the mysterious shade of magnificent 
old beeches, 

". . . where the dircus flung 
His pliant rod, the berried spicewood grew." * 

Turning homeward from this idyllic woodland spot, we 
could make a detour toward the western part of our 
property, where a long row of tulip trees covered with 
thousands of yellow cups reared their crowns skyward, like 
giant sentinels of field and wood. This circuit, extended as 
it was, had not led our steps to the confines of our domain, 
which resembled an English park in its variety of landscape. 
Writing to my mother, I described our home thus: 

"The house is spacious, cool, airy and comfortable. 
I have a large family to provide for. There are eight 
of us, not counting the child and four servants. In spite 
of the latter, there is much for me to do — much to look 
after and superintend; and especially there are numerous 
visitors to be entertained. People come from far and 
near to take a look at our house, and owing to the great 
number of relatives and friends of whom Bayard and his 
parents are possessed in the neighbourhood, we have many 
guests and dispense hospitality plentifully." 

The large family that was gathered together under our 

♦"The Poet's Journal." 



88 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

roof owed its numbers to the fact that Taylor had taken, 
with my consent, his aged parents and two sisters into our 
new house to make it their home henceforth. Besides these, 
we had during the summer two guests from my old home, 
my Aunt and Uncle Bufleb, who had come across the ocean 
to visit us. Our house was thus a hospitable one from the 
first day of our tenancy, and so it remained until the end. 
There were days — "honey-bee days," as an old squaw 
(the last survivor of the Delaware Indians), who lived 
in the vicinity, called them — when carriageloads of 
visitors, one after another, drove up to the door, as if 
by previous agreement; often they stayed to dinner or 
to supper. Neither were less transient guests wanting in 
all the years that we spent in our home. The Stoddards, 
husband and wife, with their little son Willie, often 
spent several weeks at a time with us, and this first 
summer also they were our guests. A comedy, written 
by our two poets, Stoddard and Taylor, was enacted, and 
our property was christened "Cedarcroft." 

While it became my task gradually to make the house 
more homelike, and to regulate the household (an under- 
taking not always easy, on account of habits and ways 
of living to which I was unaccustomed, and with indiffer- 
ent servants) my husband at last could relieve himself 
of the poetic conceptions he had carried with him mentally 
so long, and to which he gave the name of "The Poet's 
Journal." During the whole month of June and longer 
the Muse held him enchained, until at last he could sing: 

"Come, for my task is done." * 
It was one of Bayard Taylor's peculiarities, as he had 

*From the dedication, "To the Mistress of Cedarcroft." 



THE NEW HOMESTEAD 89 

written to me during the winter, that he was not able to 
express himself about his poetic inspirations. If a crea- 
tive idea arose in his imagination he allowed it to ripen 
in his mind, sometimes a long while, until it took form 
and being. Then, after he had committed to paper the 
creation of his brain, he willingly read it to his intimates. 
It often happened that he said to me: " I have a poem 
in my head, but cannot tell you what it is ; the idea would 
leave me at once if I did!" But sometimes a poem 
suddenly stood complete before his inner eye, and he 
read it to me in his sonorous tones on the same day. 
So, for example, his melodious "Improvisations" of 
later years. He filed short poems very little ; longer ones 
he sometimes corrected copiously. At times a poem 
pleased him so little, especially as regarded the form, that 
he rewrote it entirely or cast it aside. 

It was not easy to cultivate a mutual and sympathetic 
understanding with my new acquaintances among the 
country people. They received me with great good- 
will, but their mode of life, so primitive in many respects, 
the utterly different point of view from which they 
looked upon and judged the world and its affairs, as well 
as a certain embarrassment of manner and the Quaker 
repression of every outward show of feeling — all these 
qualities were as foreign to me as my character and 
manner, my views of life, and my opinions must have been 
strange to them. I was fortunately endowed with the 
faculty of accommodating myself easily to different 
circumstances and conditions, and this gift was a great 
help to me in the early period of my new life. The 
sanguine temperament of my husband was my guiding 
star during this time. But I did not begin to feel really 



9 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

at home in this country until four or five years had 
passed; partly owing, perhaps, to our frequent trips to 
Europe, for when our little daughter was five years old 
she had crossed the ocean with us five times. 

Among the people who lived in the neighbourhood 
there was a small number of families with whom we were 
more intimate — dear people, whom I learned to esteem. 
Whittier, who was once a guest for several days in one of 
these farmer families, said of them: "I found a people 
of plain living and high thinking, ' ' a true characterisation 
of the leading Quaker farmers in the neighbourhood of 
Kennett Square in those days. The men tilled their 
fields with their own hands and performed the various 
tasks connected with a farm; their wives did the house- 
work and looked after the dairy, often without assistance. 
Everything was done quietly and methodically, without 
unnecessary hurry, and they found time to visit friends 
and acquaintances during the afternoon, or to drive out 
in the evening, sometimes for miles, to hear a lecture by 
some famous speaker. When we drove up to the door 
unexpectedly to pay one of them a visit we always found 
the house in exquisite order, and looking as if it had been 
freshly furbished. If we came in the afternoon we were 
usually asked to stay to supper, and nothing could have 
been more appetising than those impromptu evening 
meals. In spite of all their work and toil, these people 
took a lively interest in everything that was going on 
in the world, and particularly in the closer politics of their 
own country. Besides taking several newspapers, they 
had good books on their shelves, and their talk soon turned 
to intellectual topics. They discussed the questions of 
the day, and had formed opinions on all the religious, 



THE NEW HOMESTEAD 91 

social, philanthropic and reform problems which filled 
people's minds at that time. 

One point that struck me from the very first was the 
status of woman. As in the country at large, she enjoyed 
a degree of independence that is seldom met with abroad. 
But here this position was hers by inheritance, and 
therefore free from any kind of excess. Its foundations 
were set in the first principles of the Quaker faith. Within 
the pale of this sect the woman was the absolute equal 
of the man ; she had the same rights in the family and in 
the community; at the religious meetings she was as 
privileged as any man to stand up and address the as- 
semblage whenever "the spirit moved." The self- 
reliance that the women acquired by this means endowed 
even the least of them with a quiet dignity that never 
under any circumstances deserted her. Since that time 
the surprising developments of the later decades of the 
past century have caused many changes in Chester 
County. The old barriers of Quakerdom have fallen 
before the onslaught of new conditions; the descendants 
of the "Friends," no longer satisfied within the restricted 
boundaries of their inherited acres, have wandered out 
among the "world's people," have adopted professions, 
and have thereby won wealth and fame. Kennett 
Square no longer knows the peculiar dress that we used to 
see every day, no longer hears the plain speech and owns 
the high intellectual atmosphere of former years, for 
another race has taken possession, and but few of the 
surrounding farms are in the hands of the old families. 

Many strange characters have also disappeared along 
with the former generation. Where could one find now- 
adays a parallel to the case of one old spinster of good 



92 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Quaker family whom I knew when I first came to Kennett? 
She had her coffin made ready and, pending its final service, 
put it to economical use for years as a trough for mixing 
her bread! A typical Quaker, on the other hand, was 
" Cousin Ruth," a distant relative of the Taylor family, an 
aged woman much beloved by everyone for her cheerful, 
happy disposition. Her picture lives in my memory as 
she talked pleasantly with us and smoked with enjoyment 
a short clay pipe the while. She was the original of 
"Martha Dean" in my husband's novel, "The Story of 
Kennett." I must not forget another relative; her name 
was Becky Taylor. She, with her brothers and sisters, 
all single, lived upon the old farm which they managed 
together. She was the eldest, a tall, spare woman, who 
lived to be over ninety, and went to her last day with a 
carriage as straight as that of a young girl, and without 
a gray hair on her head. Her manner was reserved and 
she spoke seldom, but she gave the impression of an 
intelligent person with a firm character that nothing 
could shake. My astonishment was great when I dis- 
covered that in former years, in the seclusion of her 
4 simple home life, she had acquired without instruction a 

mastery of the German and Italian languages, so that she 
was able to read "Faust" and the "Divina Commedia" 
in the original tongues.* 

I know not how to account for the fact that, generally 
speaking, the Quaker women possessed more refined and 
noble features than the men. The type of the Quaker 

*Her youngest brother was Dr. Franklin Taylor, one of my hus- 
band's two companions on the first trip to Europe. He left the farm 
when a young man, and, like so many American youths, earned the 
means for his own education. He afterward studied in Heidelberg, 
and gained the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. 



THE NEW HOMESTEAD 93 

woman is one of the most beautiful that the world has ever 
seen. The noble mind, the inward peace, express them- 
selves in the depth of the eye and in the delicately 
modelled features. This type can no longer be seen in 
its purest form, since the younger generation of the 
"Friends" has become " worldly, " and has exchanged 
the "meeting house" of its ancestors for the churches of 
other denominations. 



CHAPTER VII 
War Time 

Amid the idyllic life of that first summer in our own 
home we heard — low at first, but growing ever louder — 
the threatening premonitions of approaching civil war. 
In the dog days the political excitement in Kennett and 
the country round about grew to fever heat, the more 
so, as some of the most zealous abolitionists lived near 
our little village. About two miles away a farm, whose 
owners were numbered among our friends, was one of the 
stations of the "underground railroad," that system 
by which runaway slaves were secretly conveyed to 
Canada and safety. In the month of August a political 
mass meeting took place on the meadows of the Brandy- 
wine Creek, near Chadd's Ford, where a battle of the 
Revolution was fought in 1777. Upward of 40,000 
people came together here from far and near, filled with 
enthusiasm for Lincoln and the weal of the nation. 
Bayard Taylor was unanimously elected chairman of the 
meeting, and made his first political speech upon this 
occasion. 

Autumn came and painted all the landscape in gay 
colours. The first night frosts had opened the prickly 
burrs of the chestnuts and the breeze had shaken them 
down from the trees. The walnuts and hickory nuts 
dropped with a light thud, and all were eagerly garnered. 
In the fields where a little while ago the corn stood tall 

94 




BAYARD TAYLOR 
1864 



* 



WAR TIME 95 

and stately the golden ears were harvested and the dry 
stalks bunched in stacks like wigwams. Here and there 
a field of winter wheat or a meadow along the edge of a 
wood spread their vivid emerald green, while everywhere 
the frost had bedecked trees and bushes with a mantle of 
colour — here flaming red, there golden yellow, inter- 
mingled with pink, violet, purple, amaranth and palest 
green — a dazzling splendour tinged with gold by a warm 
sun that shone through a bluish haze. Along the roads 
the goldenrod, the tall asclepias (milkweed) and delicate 
asters still bloomed in profusion; the lowland marshes 
were resplendent with cardinal flowers, blue gentians, 
yellow rudbeckias and slender ferns. 

Above these beautiful autumn days the clouds of 
threatening war assumed ever greater proportions. The 
excitement of the presidential election had grown steadily 
since midsummer, becoming ever more intense as the day 
for the decision at the polls approached. On November 
6th Lincoln was elected by an overwhelming majority, 
and a vital conflict between the North and South became 
inevitable. On December 4th I wrote to my mother : 

" We are having hard times here ; there is lack of money 
everywhere and banks are failing, all in consequence 
of the dangerous political crisis. The South is so violent 
in her hatred of the North that people who are of Northern 
birth are in danger of their lives, even if they have lived 
in the South for years." And on December 28th: 
"People talk of nothing but politics. You will have 
heard the news that South Carolina has declared her 
withdrawal from the Union. Everything now depends 
on the inauguration of the new President." 

There were sympathisers with the seceding South in 



9 6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the North as well. In the middle of December, when 
George W. Curtis made a political speech in Philadelphia, 
he was hissed and silenced — something so incredible that 
a few days later, on the occasion of a lecture in Brooklyn, 
Bayard Taylor felt impelled to touch upon this incident, 
when he, too, was interrupted in his discourse by hisses. 
This experience was so unexpected and new to him that, 
as he told us afterward, everything for a moment was as 
yellow as saffron before his eyes — to such a degree was 
his anger roused. Two days later, when he also was 
to speak in Philadelphia, the authorities considered 
it expedient to have a guard of policemen on the 
platform.. 

Early in 1861 we were again in our house in New York, 
and my husband started once more upon his lecturing 
tours, in order to cover the cost of building " Cedarcroft," 
which had far exceeded his expectation. The winter 
was severe and Taylor had to endure much bodily fatigue. 
Not to mention other disagreeable happenings, once in 
February his train was stuck fast for two days in a 
snowdrift near Lake Ontario. All the more enjoyable 
were his temporary rests between these trips, which he 
utilised by writing several short stories. These furnished 
him with a welcome addition to his exchequer, as the 
principal sources of his income — for example, the ordi- 
narily large returns from the publishers of his books — 
began to shrink considerably, owing to the general business 
depression. Since anxiety for the future seemed suddenly 
to have reduced to a minimum the interest of the public 
in literature, the publication of the "Poet's Journal," 
which was ready for the press, was also postponed to a 
more favourable time. 



WAR TIME 97 

As in the preceding winter, the companionship of the 
Stoddards enabled me to support my husband's frequent 
absences better. We took our meals in common and 
often spent the evenings together, when friends of both 
occasionally dropped in. Stoddard was a real book- 
worm and intimately acquainted with old English 
literature. He seldom came home from the Custom 
House, where he held a position, without bringing a rare 
book or print that he had discovered in some old shop. 
When my husband came to stay with us for a few days 
we always had the best of times, and Stoddard would 
declaim in high good humour: "Let us sit upon the 
floor and tell sad stories of the death of kings." 

Although the public strife of those days could not 
keep our poets from sparring with the blades of wit, 
there were not nearly so many social entertainments as 
in the preceding winter. Late in February I received 
a letter from my husband, in which he wrote : 

"There is a good deal of excitement in the West; the 
people are all ready to fight. The prospects, however, 
are improving every day. Great numbers of Western 
men are going on to Washington, and if the Southerners 
attempt to prevent Lincoln's inauguration, they will get 
terribly thrashed. ... I have been reading Carlyle 
and the Atlantic for March, but have been most of the 
time occupied with my story.* I have written twelve 
pages. I enjoy this kind of writing very much, and am 
quite anxious to show it to you. Perhaps I shall have it 
finished by the time I return." 

For the past six months we had been looking forward to 
a visit to my parents' home in Germany in the coming 

* "The Haunted Shanty." 



98 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

summer, and in spite of the troublous times we still held 
to our intention of carrying out this plan. But it almost 
seemed as if it was not to be. For when the Carolinians 
fired upon Fort Sumter on April 12th, and the garrison 
under Major Anderson surrendered, civil war was un- 
avoidable and people asked each other tremblingly: 
"What will happen next?" 

For the sake of economy we had given up the New 
York house early in April, and were in "Cedarcroft" 
when the dread news arrived. In the beginning of 
February the stay-at-homes had sent me a nosegay of 
hepatica, anemones, wintergreen, violets and partridge 
berry from our woods. My sister-in-law Emma wrote 
at the same time that twelve small gray owls were roosting 
among the cedars, looking as grave as judges; that the 
bluebirds had come back and redbirds flew upon the 
terrace to regale themselves on the bluish cedar berries. 
When I wrote to my husband of these things I added: 
"'Cedarcroft' grows ever dearer to me. It is rich in 
poetry and must be the future home of your Muse, for 
does it not seem made for a poet? " But where were now 
the Muses? They had fled before the blare of the war 
trumpet. And their leader? "The sword of Mars chops 
in two the strings of Apollo's lyre." * 

If " Cedarcroft " was not without its charm in February, 
how much more attractive was it now, when Spring was 
bourgeoning everywhere and bedecking itself with fresh 
beauty. A greenish film was spread over the woods and 
the sun shone with fruitful warmth upon hill and dale. 
In the terrace -beds hyacinths and tulips blossomed 

♦Bayard Taylor to Mrs. Stoddard, "Life and Letters of Bayard 
Taylor," page 381. 



WAR TIME 99 

fragrantly, and my nurslings, the vines on the pillars of 
the veranda — Dutchman's-pipe, Virginia creeper, wistaria 
and trumpet flower, planted by myself the year before — 
began to unfold their tender leaflets. But the enjoy- 
ment that the home of our own creation afforded us 
was overcast this year by anxiety. In a letter of April 
21st I wrote to my mother: 

" Every heart is bleeding for the nation and the wrong 
being done to it. All work, all business, is at a stand- 
still, all the men capable of bearing arms are going to the 
front, among them 'Fritz.' His young comrades, the 
cousins, friends and acquaintances, have all volunteered. 
Even the most stiff-necked Quakers abandon the peaceful 
tenets of their sect and buy uniforms and arms for their 
sons. One Quaker woman of the neighbourhood ac- 
companied her three sons to the borough hall to see them 
sign their names in the list of volunteers. The patriotic 
enthusiasm is so great that no one begrudges any sacrifice 
of money, and the young men are eager to go to battle. 
At home there are five of us sitting and sewing flannel 
shirts for the regiment in which more than one of the 
boys whom we love is enrolled — fine young men, the 
flower of the community. It is principally owing to 
Fred Taylor's exertions that an entire company has been 
formed in the neighbourhood, and $4,000 subscribed for 
their equipment and maintenance. He goes to Harris- 
burg to-day to put them at the Governor's disposal." 

After the attack in Baltimore, on April 19th, upon the 
troops from Massachusetts on their way to Washington, 
it was apparent that the Federal Government had allowed 
itself to be taken by surprise. Our part of the country 
seemed also to be in grave danger. Delaware, whose 
boundary line is only six miles distant, was thought to be 

Lore. 



ioo ON TWO CONTINENTS 

true to the Union ; but it was feared that the Marylanders 
might undertake a raid to revenge themselves on the 
hated abolitionists of Kennett Square and the vicinity. 
Self-defense was our only safeguard. While the young 
men had gone into camp at some distance as Company H 
of the Bucktail Regiment * (the first Rifle Regiment of 
the Pennsylvania Volunteers) and were busily drilling, the 
older men of Kennett Square formed themselves into a 
police force for the defense of their homes in case of 
necessity. As our house was a mile from the village, and 
the New York Tribune, with which Bayard Taylor was 
connected, was cordially hated in the South, we would 
have been in a very dangerous position in the event of an 
attack. My husband therefore instituted a private night 
patrol for the protection of his property, which was 
kept alternately by himself and his farm hands. It is 
doubtful whether this guard would have been of any use 
if we had been attacked, for we possessed no arms. 
Two Turkish scimitars (one with an ancient Damascene 
blade), an African spear, a war club of the Shillook 
negroes, a shield of rhinoceros hide, and other archaic 
weapons that my husband had brought home from the 
Orient, were hunted up and kept in readiness. In spite 
of the insecurity of our position we could not refrain from 
having our fun over these inadequate means of defense. 
The night was clear and the moon shone; a silver haze 
lay over the sloping lawn, and nothing broke the stillness 
but the monotonous croaking of the frogs and the oc- 
casional deep-toned bass of a bullfrog. Nevertheless 
sleep fled from our eyelids. With the dawn the humid 

*They wore bucktails on their caps; hence the name of the regi- 
ment. 



WAR TIME 101 

spring mists were dissipated and the anxious thoughts of 
the night were banished; we breathed more freely, and 
when the following day also passed without any signs 
of hostile attack our fears of personal danger gradually 
waned. But not so the exertions of the patriots to influence 
the minds of their neighbours. Hardly a day passed that 
Taylor did not appear in one place or the other to exhort 
the country people to rise up in defense of the Union — to 
inspire courage in the faint hearted, to prick the conscience 
of the indifferent. 

When in the ensuing weeks confidence in the Govern- 
ment at Washington grew apace and the situation 
began to clear up, so that it appeared as if no definite 
action would be taken during the summer, we finally 
decided to make a short trip to Germany and sailed at 
the end of May. 

The roses were in full bloom in the garden of the new 
Observatory in Gotha when we arrived there as guests 
of my parents. And not we alone, for my sister had 
come also with her husband and children from Russia, 
so that the summer was one long family feast from begin- 
ning to end. My father, whose eyes had begun to suffer 
from the affection that later made him almost blind, had 
in the meantime been accumulating honours. As early 
as 1859 my mother had written to me: "'The Tables 
of the Moon ' will soon be used in England for navigation. 
For this purpose comparisons have been made with the 
observations of one year, and Airy writes to father that 
the result is surprising and exceeds all expectation." 
Early in the following year the Astronomical Society of 
London for the second time conferred upon him the gold 
prize medal "with great enthusiasm and a large majority 



io2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

of votes." More agreeable still was the later news that 
Parliament had awarded him one thousand pounds 
sterling for the "Tables of the Moon." 

As my husband had been suffering for some time from 
an affection of the knee joints, aggravated during the 
winter by sitting so much on the cramped American 
car seats (there were no parlour cars in those days), the 
physician had advised him to take moderate daily 
walks. This suggested the plan to travel on foot through 
Franconian Switzerland, with the further idea of making 
literary use of the jaunt and writing an article * describing 
this region so utterly unknown in America. 

Before going to Franconia my husband stopped for a 
short time at Coburg, where he had asked for permission to 
pay his respects to Duke Ernest II. He wrote me from there : 

"When I reached the station here, I had no sooner 
alighted on the platform than I was accosted by a pleasant 
gentleman with a white cravat, who asked : ' Are you not 
Herr Tylore?' 'Yes,' said I. 'His Highness, the Duke, 
expects you at the Callenberg, zur Tafel, at 7 o'clock this 
evening.' I then perceived that the gentleman was an 
Oberhof-Etwas. Of course I answered that I should have 
the honor to accept Hochderselben's invitation. 'At 
seven o'clock,' he repeated. 'You must leave Coburg at 
half past six: wear a black cravat and a dress-coat.' 

"I bought a black cravat and white gloves, and hope 
to make a respectable appearance. . . . The Oberhof- 
Etwas also said to me: 'Where is your Frau Gemahlin? 
The Duke expects her also.' Indeed, I wish you had 
come. You know I proposed it. The prospect before 
me would be much more pleasant, if you were here. 

*Published first in Harper's Magazine under the title "A Walk 
Through the Franconian Switzerland," and afterward included in "At 
Home and Abroad," Second Series. 



WAR TIME 103 

"After dinner (of which I made a lunch) I walked 
out to Neusass. I went in through Riickert's * garden — 
oh, the splendid pinks! Broad masses of a single color, 
and the hot air thoroughly impregnated with spice. It 
was a leaf out of the Orient. I found nobody in the 
lower rooms, and wandered about in uncertainty until 
at length Miss Anna issued from a stable. . . . She 
was surprised to see me. 'Oh,' said she, 'Marie was 
wondering whether you would come.' ... I went 
up stairs, and presently the old poet came. He looked 
much older, but still the same noble head, the same 
splendid eyes. He seemed heartily glad to see me, and 
talked for an hour with the greatest animation — princi- 
pally on American affairs, which he understands very 
well. Also on Oriental literature. He still writes poetry, 
he tells me, but has firmly resolved that none of it shall 
be published until after his death." 

He continued the letter next day: 

"I must wait until nearly 12 for the train to Bamberg, 
which gives me time to continue the story. I found the 
landlord had engaged for me an aparten Wagen with 
two horses. So, putting on my duster to protect the 
black dress, ... I set out for the Callenberg. The 
evening was perfectly delicious: the old Veste Coburg 
shone golden in the sun, and long shadows lay across the 
meadows of Rosenau. There was a mild breeze, hay- 
scented, blowing over the hills. At 10 minutes before 
7 I reached the Callenberg. The Duke's darkey was at 
the door, and I gave my duster . . . into his hands. 
He conducted me to an upper terrace — a delicious, 
shaded place, planted with flowers in rococo style, 
with a fountain in the centre. At the main entrance 
stood two lackeys. I followed the darkey, and was 
about entering, when I was confronted by a tall, stately 

*Friedrich Riickert, the poet. 



104 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

gentleman, with . . . the most wonderfully curled 
and waxed moustaches that I ever saw. He bowed 
with gravity: I answered stiffly. He looked at me as 
if expecting me to say something, but I was so taken 
aback by the marvellous twist of his moustaches that I 
could not think of a single appropriate remark. One of 
the lackeys, seeing that I was absorbed in the contempla- 
tion of this gentleman, politely introduced him as ' Ober- 

hofmarschall von W .' Thereupon he suddenly 

remarked ' Vous etes arrive aujourd'hui?' I answered in 
German, which seemed to relieve him — whereupon he 
conducted me around the terrace, and pointed out the 
beauties of the landscape. I fell in love with the Callen- 
berg at once. There is not a more exquisite situation in 
Germany. It is high enough to command a wide and 
splendid panorama, yet not so high as to lose the sentiment 
and expression of the different features. Each angle 
of the parapet gives you a new landscape. There is, first, 
the valley of Coburg, crowned by its hill and fortress; 
then a broad mountain of dark firs — nothing else to be 
seen; then a vision of England — hedgerow trees, green 
lawns and water; then a rich plain, stretching away to 
the southwest, where the volcanic peaks of the Gleich- 
berge rise against the sky; and so on, all around. The 
trees on the hill itself are superb, and the castle on the 
summit so thoroughly harmonizes with the scenery, that 
it seems the natural crowning expression of the whole. 

"Presently a lackey came and whispered to the Ober- 
hofmarschall, who informed me that the Duke's adjutant, 

Herr von R , with his wife and sister (I believe) had 

arrived, and asked whether it would be agreeable to me 
to be presented to them. The Adjutant was a slight, 
gentlemanly person, with an air of refinement ; the ladies 
both handsome and graceful. Scarcely had we exchanged 
a few common-places when the Duke and Duchess came 
out upon the terrace. Off went hats and down dipped 
the ladies. The Duchess did the same, and the O. H. 



WAR TIME 105 

Marschall immediately presented me to her. At the 
same moment the Duke came up to me, bowed and 
addressed me very cordially.* I bowed profoundly to 
both. As the Duke addressed me in German, I answered 
him in the same. He immediately asked after you, and 
seemed a little disappointed that you were not with me. 
He looks remarkably well. His face is tanned and has a 
fine healthy look, and he has splendid brown eyes. He 
at once took me off to the parapet and began to comment 
upon the landscape, but in a few minutes dinner was 
announced, and we rejoined the company. The dinner 
was very pleasant. Not only were the dishes remarkably 
good, and the wine excellent, but there was a free, unre- 
strained flow of conversation, in which all took part. 
The Duchess is passionately fond of scenery, and knows 
how to remember and describe what she has seen. The 
Duke is a head and shoulders above the men who sur- 
round him — a bright, wide-awake, well-informed, living 
man, with very extensive acquirements and exquisite 
taste. . . . 

"After dinner we went upon the terrace, and had 
coffee and cigars. Then the Duke took me into a corner 
where we looked down on the loveliest woods and talked 
for about an hour. As I had to lend him my cigar 
several times for a light, I noticed that his hands were not 
near so handsome as mine, and that he had not the least 
idea how to present a cigar in the graceful Spanish 
manner. He talked with the greatest animation and 
frankness, and I was really so pleased with him as a man 
that I totally forgot he was a reigning Prince. He spoke 
of European and American politics in the most unre- 
strained way, and I was equally unrestrained in expressing 
my own sentiments. I was surprised to find how many 
views we shared in common. 

*The Duke had made Bayard Taylor's acquaintance in 1858, in the 
new Observatory at Gotha, when the former had paid a visit of inspec- 
tion in the company of his brother Albert, the Prince Consort of 
England. 



106 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

" About ten o'clock, there was a movement of departure. 
. . . I had passed, as you may suppose, a most 
interesting and delightful evening on the Callenberg." 

Ere the wanderer had completed his journey on foot 
he was heartily tired of this whimsical method of treat- 
ment, and wrote to me shortly before his return, the end 
of June: "I might appropriately take to myself the 
name of an Indian chief whom I once knew — Blister-feet." 

In August the Duke and Duchess came for a stay of 
several weeks to Castle Reinhardsbrunn, at the foot of 
the Thuringian Mountains. On the ruins of a rich 
mediaeval monastery, that had been destroyed in the 
Peasants' War,* the father of the reigning Duke had 
erected a beautiful summer residence in the Gothic style 
of architecture, and had surrounded it by an English 
park. It is exquisitely situated between artificial lakes 
and groups of trees ; its principal facade looks toward the 
Abbot's Mountain, clothed with magnificent beeches, and 
to the bold summit of the Evil Mountain beyond. Shortly 
after the arrival of the ducal party we received a 
promised invitation to dinner at Reinhardsbrunn. We 
were in the latter half of August and the days were 
autumnal rather than summer-like; nevertheless the six- 
o'clock dinner was served in the open air. The table was 
set in a triangular space between the newer building and 
the old restored chapel f of the monastery, and facing 

*"A dreadful war broke out in 1525: the army of thirty thousand 
peasants ravaged a great part of Southern Germany, destroying castles 
and convents. . . . The movement extended through Middle 
Germany, even to Westphalia; some parts of Thuringia were held for 
a short time by the peasants, and suffered terrible ravages." — "A His- 
tory of Germany," by Bayard Taylor, page 263. 

f It contains the burial stones of a number of Landgraves of Thu- 
ringia, three of them life-size effigies in stone. 



WAR TIME 107 

a group of fine old linden trees, at whose foot stands 
the ancient weather-beaten "Monks' Table" of stone. 

The cordiality of the ducal hosts and the absence of 
any formal court etiquette contributed to make this 
occasion a very pleasant memory. After dinner we 
assembled in the billiard-room, where tea was served. 
The ladies sat around the Duchess ; the gentlemen played 
billiards, sometimes stopping to address the ladies. 
The Duke was in excellent spirits and amused himself at 
the expense of the lady-in-waiting; just as she was 
raising a spoonful of tea to her lips a well-directed stroke 
of his billiard cue sent the contents back into her cup. 
His good humour gave the keynote to the conversation 
of the evening and time passed rapidly. At nine o'clock 
our carriage was waiting to convey us back — a two hours' 
drive — to Gotha. 

We soon afterward started homeward, and arrived in 
America early in September. We found the political 
situation not much improved. People still felt great 
anxiety as to the outcome, and the scarcity of money was 
disagreeably apparent. Like thousands of other families, 
we were obliged to economise in our daily life ; this was, 
however, no hardship to us, as we were conscious that our 
happiness was not based upon externals. Our life in 
the country in autumn had great attraction for me, of 
which neither our slender purse nor the scarcity of 
servants could rob me. Our orchard supplied us with an 
abundance of apples and pears, the woods gave us chest- 
nuts and other nuts, and it was a pleasure to gather the 
fruit in baskets and bring it to the house. Guests came 
and went, among others George H. Boker, of Philadelphia, 
one of the handsomest men I have ever known, whose 



io8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

frequent visits always had an agreeable and stimulating 
effect upon my husband, his intimate friend. Taylor 
employed his leisure in the country and his enjoyment of 
his own hearth for a many-sided literary activity, partly 
in order to meet current expenses and partly to unburden 
his mind of its accumulation of poetic material. The 
library adjoined the family sitting-rooms, in which guests 
were received. When he complained of being disturbed 
in his work I hastened to close the doors of the library as 
soon as visitors were announced, but so convivially 
inclined was my husband's nature that he presently 
upset all my plans for his privacy. In the course of a 
few minutes he opened the sliding doors and came forward 
to greet our guests with his inborn amiability. At this 
time he began writing his first novel, " Hannah Thurston," 
and thus entered the domain of fiction, in which he had 
previously attempted only a few short stories. When 
my husband read the first finished chapters aloud to me 
I could not refrain from playfully chiding him for the 
realistic delineations that were antagonistic to my 
taste — whereupon he only laughed good humouredly. 
He very well knew the dualism of his creative faculty and 
recognised that two different spiritual elements held the 
balance in his nature: one idealistic, which constantly 
urged him to higher aspiration and showed forth in his 
poems, the other realistic, that led him to see and picture 
life as it actually is. 

When shortly after our return home my husband went 
to Washington for a few days, he wrote me thence: 

"Six regiments arrived to-day. There are now in 
and around Washington 200,000 men. . . . Charlie 



WAR TIME 109 

Lamborn * was here yesterday. His regiment is 6 
miles off. His Colonel says he is the best adjutant 
in the Army. Fred's regiment is expected to move 
down to the same camp in a few days. . . . Yester- 
day Willis, Stedman,f Judge Titian Coffey and myself 
went over the river and along the line of defense. Gen. 
Keyes, who has command at Arlington, was going to the 
pickets, and we accompanied him most of the way. . 
I saw enough to know that Washington is the safest 
place in the country." 

One Sunday morning in October the family was greatly 
rejoiced by an unexpected visit from Fred Taylor, who 
had obtained a short furlough. He looked handsome 
and manly and his uniform set off his good figure. The 
weather was delicious and so entrancing that by evening 
we could count upward of forty guests who had entered 
our doors since morning, and a large number of whom 
had claimed our hospitality either for dinner or for sup- 
per. Later 'in the season, however, when the rainy days 
set in and the roads, bad enough at any time, became 
well-nigh impassable, visiting was not so frequent. In 
the short days, also, people had not time for junketing, 
for everyone was busier than ever, especially the women, 
who, besides doing their own work, were sewing, knitting, 
and preserving fruit for winter comforts for the troops 
and the hospitals. 

In the beginning of December my husband left us for 
a short time. From Boston he informed me : 

*A young Quaker of Kennett. 

fMr. Stedman was war correspondent of the New York World 
during the years of 1861-65. In this capacity one of his first com- 
munications was a letter filling a newspaper page, describing the Battle 
of Bull Run, which opened the eyes of the public to the actual progress 
and true results of the war. 



no ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"Fields* will send proofs of my ' Hebel' f and the 
'Experiences of the A.C to the Cornhill Magazine: per- 
haps Thackeray may take both. If so, better. Gilmore 
will pay the Atlantic's price for the article on Ibn Batuta. 
Fields is anxious for the Quaker story, and Gilmore wants 
a story also — so that I shall have as much literary work 
as I can undertake. ... If Thackeray accepts both, 
it will be an addition of $200 to my funds. . . . Ibn 
Batuta will probably bring me another $100. Fields 
also paid me in advance $100 for Hebel ... he 
offers to pay me always in advance. ... I am 
glad you are reading Titan. $ It is chaotic, but very 
fine." 

At the close of the year winter set in at last. Snow 
covered the earth, but the sun shone bright and clear. 
It happened that my husband had to deliver a lecture in 
Washington on December 26th, and he persuaded me to 
go with him and to visit the camps in his company. I 
quote from my letters to my parents describing this 
excursion : 

" Our little trip to the Potomac was intensely interest- 
ing. The weather was cold but favourable, wonderfully 
clear and sunshiny. After my husband had shown me 
the Capitol and the halls of Congress, we packed a large 
basket of provisions for Fred, added some home-made 
apple jelly for the field hospital, and drove out of the 
city along the Potomac. Some distance beyond a sus- 
pension bridge took us over to the opposite bank, which 

*James T. Fields, the publisher; at that time the editor of the 
Atlantic Monthly. 

f'The German Burns," an article by Bayard Taylor, full of apprecia- 
tion of Johann Peter Hebel, containing translations of a number of 
his Allemanic poems. 

JBy Jean Paul Richter. 



WAR TIME 



in 



rises steep and rocky, while the waters rush along between 
boulders — a wild, tumultuous stream. Thence toward 
the south the heavily laden forage wagons followed one 
another, and the roads were full of soldiers — infantry as 
well as cavalry. We had a government pass good for 
three days, without which we could not have got across 
the river. My husband had received it as a special 
favour, and we could therefore take our time in seeing 
the different camps. On this first day that of the Buck- 
tails was our goal. The road up to the top of the ridge 
of hills that follows the river led through a picturesque 
gorge, from the end of which we could overlook the seat 
of war. Where in the autumn the rebels had still been 
undisputed masters now stood the tents of the Union 
army. Even from this distance it was evident that war 
had wrought terrible havoc. Magnificent trees — cedars, 
pines, chestnuts, sycamores — lay prone along the roads, 
hacked and hewn to splinters. Farther along an entire 
wood had been cleared away, leaving the naked stumps 
standing, while all the branches had been used for con- 
structing intrenchments. Of course, the fields were 
unfilled, the fences torn down, and orchards had fallen 
under the axes of the sappers. The stately country 
houses upon the hills were abandoned by their owners; 
some of them were used as headquarters of the generals, 
and one as a field hospital. About two miles from the 
Potomac we saw the camps of McCall's division, to which 
the Bucktail regiment belongs. The latter lay encamped 
along the front next to the enemy, and we were shown a 
hill upon whose farther slope we should find it. We 
soon saw the tents shining in the light of the declining 
sun, and a horseman came galloping to meet us. It was 
Fred, for the time being acting colonel in place of his 
superior officer, who had received a gunshot wound in 
the victorious Battle of Drain esville, shortly before Christ- 
mas. He took us to his tent on the summit of the hill 
and showed us the point, about a mile away, where stood 



ii2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the last outpost of the Union army, with the enemy not 
far distant. The air was keen upon the height, and we 
were glad to enter the tent and warm ourselves by the 
small iron field stove. Besides a hard camp bed, the 
tent contained a table — where toilet articles lay side by 
side with books and writing materials — and four small 
camp stools, on which it was difficult to keep one's 
balance. 

"As time pressed we did not stay long. With Fred on 
horseback beside us, we drove along between the rows of 
tents, where the young men of Kennett had their quar- 
ters, and greeted our acquaintances. Here we were 
entertained with an account of the Battle of Drainesville, 
in which the regiment had been under fire for the first 
time. One of Taylor's cousins showed us the coat of his 
uniform, in which a grapeshot had torn a hole. The 
concussion had thrown him down without materially 
injuring him, and his comrades teased him by saying 
that when he fell he cried out : ' There are both my legs 
gone!' This and other jokes were told us. The Buck- 
tails were fortunate in this battle.* Fighting against an 
equal number of the enemy, they had not a man killed 
and only seven or eight wounded, which they ascribed 
to the poor marksmanship of the rebels. 

" Our quarters for the night was, of course, the hotel in 
Washington. Next day we came back and saw "a review 
of the thirteen regiments that had distinguished them- 
selves in the recent battle. The weather was glorious, 
and the snow sparkled and gleamed in the sunlight. We 
had the distinction of seeing the review in the suite of the 
Governor of Pennsylvania and the Secretary of War, and 
were pleased that the Bucktails, under Fred's command, 
were placed at the head of the brigade, and received 
special recognition from the Governor for their courageous 

* This regiment was later engaged in the most murderous battles of 
the war. Very few of the young people of Kennett ever saw their 
homes again ; their bones lay scattered over the battlefields from Get- 
tysburg to the Wilderness. 



WAR TIME 113 

behaviour during the fight. After the review we ac- 
cepted General Reynolds's* invitation and dined with him 
in his tent. There we found our friend Charles Lamborn 
(his adjutant), the rest of his staff, and brother Fred as 
his guests. The dinner was very good and all were in the 
best of spirits — a charming intermezzo." 

The last day of the year saw us back in " Cedarcrof t. " 
This was my first acquaintance with country life in 
winter. Snowstorms alternating with rainy days caused 
me to long for spring ; for not until then would the roads 
be passable and healthy exercise out of doors possible. 
The days crept by monotonously after my husband again 
left for the West on a lecturing tour. Reading his let- 
ters, which I received almost daily, was my favourite 
recreation. He wrote to me from Peoria, 111. : "I passed 
through the scenery described in the 'Haunted Shanty,' 
and was surprised to find that I had remembered it so 
correctly. ' ' 

Another time he sighed : " O that I had everything off 
my hands, except the novel! I work at that, in my head, 
a little every day." From Zanesville, O., he wrote 
among other things: 

" I was attacked by a bore, who asked me the following 
questions : 

1. What is the cause of the difference in the manners of 

nations ? 

2. Do free schools promote infidelity? 

3. How fast do ostriches run? 

4. Does religion depend on climate? 

5. Would Lapps live in this country? 

* John F. Reynolds, one of the bravest generals of the Union army, 
fell on the first day at Gettysburg. 



* 



ii 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

6. Will there be more Protestant sects in the future? 

7. What people live in Spitzbergen? 

8. Did Evil originate with Adam? 

9. How large is the white bear? 

10. Is not industry fatal to civilization? 

I answered the fool according to his folly." 

Apropos of these questions, I cannot refrain from 
quoting a similar experience that happened to Browning 
in later years, and which he himself related to my hus- 
band. At a dinner party he was requested to take in a 
lady, who hardly gave him time to sit down, when she 
began, " Oh, Mr. Browning, I have been wanting so much 
to meet you, in order to ask you some questions: Who 
were the Davenport Brothers, and the Plymouth Breth- 
ren?" Browning explained to the best of his ability, 
when she inquired breathlessly : "And what are Yarmouth 
bloaters?" 

Bayard Taylor was not infrequently victimised by 
bores of this sort. I remember that one day, while we 
were in the country, a strange woman, who called herself 
an authoress, paid him a visit. After she had bored him 
for a while, and still gave no signs of leaving, my husband 
began to cough violently, and excused himself with the 
remark, "We have an epidemic in the house that takes 
this form" — in two minutes the woman made her exit, 
and he was rid of her. 

Although usually the most long suffering of men, yet 
Taylor sometimes very nearly lost his self-control when 
tried by these persons. Once, in New York, a stranger 
of doubtful education forced himself upon my husband, 
and bored him almost to death for more than half an hour. 



WAR TIME 115 

At last, when the door closed upon his visitor, he cast 
himself furiously upon a roll of carpet that stood in a 
corner ready to be laid down, and threw it from one end 
of the room to the other. I happened to be present, and 
exclaiming, "Quick, a cigar!" I offered him one, and a 
lighted match as well. This approved sedative did not 
fail of its effect ; a few puffs and his anger had evaporated. 
In the first half of February Taylor persuaded me to 
go with him to New York for a few weeks. I had an 
added reason for doing so; our friends, the Stoddards, 
had suffered the misfortune to lose their six-year-old son 
Willie in January. I hoped to afford them some com- 
fort by staying in the same boarding house in which they 
were living. Such proved to be the case, as appears 
from a letter to my mother-in-law : 

" It was," I wrote, " a trial at first for them to see Lily, 
but the shock of the first meeting over, I think her pres- 
ence is beginning to be of some comfort to them. Willie 
had the strangest longing for Kennett and Lily ever since 
his last visit, and Stoddard has the touching belief that 
Willie is somewhere near him as long as Lily is in the 
room." 

On March 8th my husband came home and said, " I 
have just been at the Tribune office, and have been asked 
to go to Washington as the head correspondent of the 
paper. A battle is expected there hourly, and I am to 
report it." As he had never declined a service to the 
Tribune, which was, so to speak, his alma mater, he felt 
impelled to comply also with this request. The new 
turn of affairs threw us into great excitement, and my 
heart was very heavy when my husband was ready for 



n6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

departure next day. The news that I received from him 
during the following weeks may rank as history, and I 
quote some extracts: 

"Washington, Monday noon. 
"There is a general advance this morning towards 
Manassas (private) — the rebels have left their batteries 
on the Potomac, and contrabands who came yesterday 
say they are leaving Manassas. The general impression 
here is that there will not be much fighting after all. 
Fred's division was to move this morning. There is 
motion everywhere. I arrived just at the nick of time. 
I shall probably not start until to-morrow morning. I 
think I shall have chances of sending every day from 
camp. No one anticipates hard fighting. So don't be 
concerned about me." 

"Fairfax Court House, Monday evening, March 10. 

"Here I am, 12 miles from Manassas. After writing 
to you this morning, the news came that the whole army 
was moving on Centreville. I rushed around and got 
everything ready, took the boat for Alexandria, and rode 
hither — 18 miles — by dusk. I have comfortable quar- 
ters with Gen. Slocum in a secession house. McClellan 
is here. The rebels are leaving Manassas as fast as they 
can. There will be no fight, or next to none. . . . My 
horse is superb. The journey was grand. 50,000 men 
are bivouacked around us in the moonlight — drums and 
trumpets sound on all sides." 

"Washington, Wednesday, 3 p. m. 
"I have just returned from riding two miles beyond 
Manassas. I got there ahead of McClellan, and 20 hours 
after the Rebels. I am stiff and sore from riding 70 miles, 
and sleeping two nights on a bare plank. The weather 
has been glorious, and the experience something to remem- 
ber for a lifetime. We found Manassas burning, a dread- 



WAR TIME 117 

ful scene of ruin. I picked up a bowie-knife, plated 
spoon and wooden fork, but could not find a pistol for 
Dick.* The fortifications are a damnable humbug and 
McClellan has been completely fooled." 

As the campaign came to a standstill after this defeat, 
my husband returned home for a few days, and went 
back to Washington on the 20th in order to go with the 
army to Richmond — as people then supposed. The 
capital of Virginia was to be reached by water, and the 
army was therefore to be conveyed by ship to Fortress 
Monroe, which was garrisoned by Union troops. After 
his arrival in Washington, Taylor wrote to me: 

"Washington, Saturday evening, March 22, 1862. 

"I rode out yesterday afternoon, to find McCall's 
division, and after wading 12 miles through seas of mud, 
as far south as Munson's Hill, I finally found them, about 
i^- miles from Alexandria. They are camped on a hill, 
in little tentes d'abri of india-rubber and cedar-boughs, 
and look very well, after all their marches in the rain. 
Fred is very rugged and hardy — more so than ever be- 
fore. . . . The Bucktails want me to embark with 
them, and I shall try to do so. . . . They are now 
attached to Gen. Reynolds's brigade. ... I saw 
Hawthorne, this morning. He, also, is just off for 
Fortress Monroe, and I hope to meet him there again. 
I also saw Willis — but he is too Epicurean to follow the 
army." 

"Washington, Monday afternoon, March 24. 

"I am still waiting, but with the prospect of getting 

off on Wednesday. I saw Gen. McDowell last night, 

and he says : ' When three more divisions have gone, get 

ready!' On Saturday about 10,000 troops left, and 

*Stoddard. 



n8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

probably as many yesterday. We shall have over 100,000 
in all, and' I scarcely anticipate much fighting. . . . 
Senator Chandler told me he thought there would be 
none — that the rebels would not make a stand against 
so large a force. There is probably fighting at Winches- 
ter to-day — a continuation of yesterday's battle. We 
have no fears for the result." 

The next letter contained utterly unexpected news 
that seemed suddenly to turn everything upside down. 
It read thus: 

"Washington, Wednesday evening, March 26, '62. 
"I write in haste, on account of unexpected news. 
Cameron (former Secretary of War) is excessively 
anxious that I should be his Secretary of Legation to 
Russia, and has gone so far as to speak to the President 
about it. The matter now rests entirely with me. The 
salary is not much ($1,800 or $2,000), but Cameron says 
he shall only stay six months, leaving me as Charge 
d' Affaires, and gave me to understand that I could be 
appointed Minister, in case he did not return. The 
Minister's salary is $12,000 a year. I must decide in 
three days. Now, I want you to write at once and tell 
me candidly what you think. . . . He gives me until 
the 1st of May to get ready, in case I can go. The 
proposition strikes me favorably in one respect — I would 
have splendid facilities for making my Asiatic tour. 
. . . What makes me hesitate is that the future is a 
little doubtful. If the Ministership was certain, I would 
not hesitate a moment, provided you thought favorably 
of the matter. . . . Cameron will certainly return 
to America in the fall, and I should be Charge — that is 
the only certainty. Were it sure that he could be elected 
Senator (his object in returning) and that I should be 
appointed, it would put another face on the matter. 
Think it over, and give me your woman's judgment. 



WAR TIME 119 

. . . Decide without thinking of me. My mind is so 
evenly balanced that it will be even easier for me to 
say no than yes. In fact, I almost refused him to-night, 
and only hesitate because he pressed me so strongly. 
Personally he is an agreeable man and is said to be very 
generous and devoted towards those he likes. . . . 
Advise me, for I am utterly undecided." 

This letter reached me late in the evening. I hoped 
that the night would bring good counsel, but shortly 
after midnight I heard a carriage drive up to the door, 
and lo! my husband had come to advise with me in 
person. We talked long together, and when he left us 
again next morning it was decided : we were to go. 



4 



CHAPTER VIII 

The St. Petersburg Episode 

Early in May we sailed from New York in company 
with the Minister and his family. A visit to my parents 
had been the joyful project that had beguiled our minds 
from the very first. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, their two 
daughters and youngest son, joined us at Gotha and had 
their first experience of a German family circle and of 
true German hospitality. Then my husband journeyed 
to St. Petersburg with them, while I followed in the 
middle of July, with our little four-year-old daughter. 
During this short separation my husband wrote as 
follows : 

"Cameron has taken the house now occupied by Mr. 
Clay,* and will move into it in two or three days. He 
insists that I shall live with them until you come. . . . 
Cameron has positively announced his intention of 
leaving by the beginning of September. Clay, however, 
now says that he wants to come back after Cameron 
returns, and has written to the President about it. He 
is very free and easy in his talk about it, saying that he 
will leave his family at home and come back. . . . This 
looks threatening to my prospects; but I don't believe 
Clay will ever get back here again. He is . . . rather 
proud of being Major General and the chances are that 
he will stay at home when he gets there." 

* Cassius M. Clay, who had resigned the post of Minister to Russia 
in order to join the army 

120 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 121 

" Legation of the United States, 
"St. Petersburg, Monday, June 23, 1862. 
"I returned this morning from Pulkowa, after a very 
agreeable visit. . . . After breakfast this morning, 
I rode into the city in a peasant's bondkara. I im- 
mediately brought my luggage here, to the evident 
satisfaction of the ladies, who have a lonely time of it. 
. . . I have ordered a Russian teacher. It provokes 
me not to know the language. I begin already to under- 
stand a word here and there." 

"St. Petersburg, Monday night, June 30, 1862. 
"On Sunday we were again at Tzarskoe-Selo, and saw 
the Empress. I was delighted with her grace, self- 
possession and evident intellect. She spoke to me in 
German, and inquired about my travels over the world, 
of which she had heard. . . . We had another 
handsome breakfast at Tzarskoe, and were taken through 
the park in the Imperial carriages." 

In the last of these letters was enclosed the beautiful 
sonnet 

"Once more without you!" * 

which my husband had written the day before. 

After my arrival in St. Petersburg, my first excursion 
was a visit to Pulkowa, where the Imperial Observatory 
crowns a hill, comprising many buildings surrounded by 
park-like grounds. I made frequent and pleasant visits 
there during my stay in Russia. The higher officials 
of this magnificent scientific institute were all Germans — 
to the number of five or six, who each occupied a spacious 
apartment, and united with their families to form an 

♦Published in the Household Edition under the title "From the 
North." 



i22 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

agreeable social circle. My brother-in-law, August von 
Wagner, occupied the position next in rank to that of the 
Director, Otto von Struwe. 

In the capital society was passing through its dullest 
season. The diplomatic circle and the Russian aristoc- 
racy, with whom we were to associate, were either in the 
country or travelling. The Court was at Tzarskoe-Selo, 
afterward going to Novgorod and Moscow, and did 
not return to the Winter Palace on the Neva until the 
New Year. It was not to be expected that a lady of the 
diplomatic corps could be presented before the latter 
date, and in the interim visiting in Russian houses was 
out of the question. 

Under these circumstances the Legation joyfully took 
advantage of the opportunity to make an excursion to 
Moscow and Nishni-Novgorod late in August. The 
great fair, which promoted trade between Russia and 
Asia, was just being held at the latter place and was an 
attraction. The invitation for this trip was extended 
by Messrs. Ross Winans & Company, who had built the 
railway between St. Petersburg and Moscow, and farther 
into the interior, for the Russian Government ; they proved 
most munificent hosts in the person of their representa- 
tive, Mr. Pierce, who accompanied us. We, with servants, 
formed a party of ten persons. We were housed in a car 
fitted out in the most comfortable style and were treated 
everywhere with the utmost liberality. In this way I 
saw the old Tartar city, Moscow, which my husband had 
visited already, with its numerous gold, silver and green 
onion-shaped cupolas, its Asiatic-Byzantine character 
and its wondrous Kremlin. Of all the sights that I 
beheld there in swift review two only stand forth vividly 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 123 

in my memory. One was the astounding basilica of 
Ivan the Terrible, the Vasili Blakenoi,* which can be 
compared to no other church in the world, and seems to 
have been put together by chance out of towers of varying 
height, form and colour. Taylor called it " the apotheosis 
of chimneys." The effect of the interior is thrilling and 
eerie. From every cupola of the slender towers a colossal 
face of the Virgin, or of the Saviour, looks weirdly down 
with great, staring eyes upon the beholder, until awe 
overcomes him and he is fain to turn away. The other 
sight that I remember is entirely different. Among a 
magnificent collection of old vestments, kept in the 
building of the Holy Synod on the Kremlin, I recall the 
most marvellous one of all. Woven of gold and silver 
threads, the entire fabric seemed to gleam with a rosy 
shimmer. A broad band of crimson velvet bordered the 
garment. It was elaborately embroidered with arabesques 
formed of seed pearls, interspersed here and there with a 
brilliant diamond or a large pearl of great value. The 
groundwork of gold and silver tissue was decked with 
medallions enclosing scenes from the New Testament — 
the Crucifixion, the Entombment, etc., the outlines of 
which consisted of rows of tiny pearls; the faces of the 
figures were wrought with the needle in the finest silk. 
Words are inadequate to describe the exquisite effect of 
this wonderful example of ancient Byzantine art. 

In Nishni those of us who did not know the Orient 
were ushered into a new and strange world. A piece 
of Asia was there presented to the eye. But I pass by all 
this, and will mention only a thoroughly Russian meal, 

*Described by Bayard Taylor in his volume "Greece and Russia," 
P- 338. 



124 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

that we had asked to have served to us, for the sake of the 
experience. The Russian waiters all wore the national 
costume of shirt and trousers, the latter stuffed into high 
boots. The head waiter alone was dressed in a shirt of 
silk, of Persian weave, shimmering pale blue and white. 
After the appetiser, called sakusti, which is partaken of 
standing at a side table, we took our places, and soup 
was served accompanied by patties filled with aspic and 
finely chopped herbs. While we were eating this course 
the cooks, dressed in white, appeared in the dining-room 
bearing a large vessel, in which the precious sterlet of the 
Volga was swimming; this they carried in solemn pro- 
cession around the table, to show that the fish was alive 
when ready to be cooked, for thus alone could its inimita- 
bly delicate flavour be preserved. (In St. Petersburg 
this custom was observed at large dinners in Russian 
families.) While we were waiting for the reappearance 
of the fish, the waiters served an entree and at the same 
time placed upon the table large gold and silver ewers of 
antique form and workmanship. These contained beer 
and another peculiar brew consisting of beer, lemons and 
spices, that reminded me of a mixture called Maulesel 
(mule), which I had tasted in my childhood. These 
ewers were passed from hand to hand, according to the 
Russian custom, and each gentleman was expected to 
drink from the spot where the preceding lady had placed 
her lips. Of the other courses I will mention only the roast, 
which consisted of sucking pigs of the tenderest age, most 
deliciously cooked, and the salad, that I have since vainly 
tried to reproduce. It filled a large, deep bowl and appeared 
to be a medley of pieces of watermelon, small cucumbers, 
grapes and cherries, mingled with little lumps of ice. 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 125 

In September the Minister with his family took leave 
of absence, and went back to America by way of Italy. 
My husband remained as Charge d' 'Affaires and only 
incumbent of the Legation with a salary of $6,000, a 
sum so inadequate to the expenses of the position that we 
were obliged to restrict ourselves as much as possible. 
To my great consolation I discovered later that there 
were several other diplomatic representatives in the 
same plight; the only difference being that their home 
governments were not, like the United States, numbered 
among the important nations. 

Meanwhile our mode of life was quiet. In October the 
diplomats gradually began to return to St. Petersburg, 
and one of the first acquaintances we made was that of 
the English Ambassador, Lord Napier. In the absence 
of Lady Napier, Mrs. Locock, the wife of one of the 
attaches, acted as hostess of the Embassy. I was pleased 
to find in her an old acquaintance from Athens, the daugh- 
ter of the American clergyman, Doctor King. This was 
fortunate, since she was able to introduce me to some 
other ladies of the diplomatic corps, among others to the 
Duchess of Montebello, at the French Embassy. We 
found a small company gathered around the tea table 
of the Ambassadress, an Englishwoman by birth. The 
conversation did not rise above the level of the common- 
place. The Duchess entertained us for some time with 
the praise of a certain healing salve, by the application of 
which she had often worked cures among the retainers of 

her father, Lord L . Much more entertaining was an 

evening with the Belgian Minister, Baron Gevers, whose 
wife was an American. One of the few guests was Count 
Golz, who was about to exchange his post of Minister at 



126 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

St. Petersburg for that of Paris, which had become vacant 
by the appointment of Bismarck as Prime Minister in 
Berlin. The grounds for this nomination, and the state 
of affairs in Prussia were of course the subject of discussion. 
The latter seemed to assume the shape of a giant question 
mark, and people wondered what sort of an influence the 
new Prime Minister would exert upon the fortunes of the 
country. Count Golz, when asked what manner of man 
von Bismarck was, like a true diplomat, answered evasively 
that he had created a very favourable impression both 
in St. Petersburg and in Frankfort by his agreeable 
address. So little did anyone then dream what a star 
of the first magnitude had arisen in his person in the 
Cabinet of King William I. of Prussia. 

The situation in the United States had hardly changed 
for the better since our departure in May, and now 
began to cause us some anxiety, the more so because 
France and England displayed their sympathy with the 
Southern States more openly ; an intervention in favour 
of the latter seeming to become an ever more threatening 
danger. Taylor's responsibility, as the representative 
of our Government, was thus not by any means a slight 
one. It was necessary, in the face of any reverses that 
the Union army might suffer, to preserve the confidence 
of the Russian Government (hitherto the only friendly 
power) in the final victory of the North. As Taylor 
himself was firmly convinced of the certainty of this 
ultimate triumph, he at length succeeded, after several 
long and very interesting interviews with Prince Gortch- 
acow, in enlisting the sympathies of this astute diplomat 
entirely on the side of the Federal Government, and in 
firmly establishing the friendship of the two powers — 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 127 

Russia and the United States. In these diplomatic 
conversations the personal magnetism which my husband 
possessed in so great a measure may perhaps have con- 
tributed not a little to this result, as seems to be indicated 
by the following paragraph from his despatch to Secretary 
of State William H. Seward, under date of October 29, 
1862: 

" We were standing face to face during the conversation, 
and the earnest, impassioned mariner of the Prince im- 
pressed me with the fact that he was speaking from his 
heart. At the close of the interview he seized my hand, 
gave it a strong pressure, and exclaimed, ' God bless you ! '" 

Later, after this despatch had been published in 
America, Lord Napier took occasion to refer to these 
words at the close of an audience with Prince Gortchacow, 
by ironically remarking: "When shall I be as fortunate 
as Mr. Taylor, and receive a 'God bless you' from Your 
Excellency?" "As soon as you deserve it!" replied the 
Prince. The latter afterward smilingly related the inci- 
dent to my husband. 

In his intercourse with Taylor Lord Napier scarcely 
ever assumed his role of English Ambassador; he seemed 
to take pains to avoid any discussion of American affairs. 
On the other hand, he could not refrain from asking me 
confidentially one day whether my husband was in reality 
so thoroughly convinced of the final defeat of the South 
as he professed to be. Lord Napier appeared to be about 
fifty years of age; his white hair, that contrasted well 
with his fresh complexion and blue eyes, combined to 
make him, although not strictly handsome, a fine-looking 
man. His manner was amiable and unconventional. 



i28 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

He told me, much to my surprise, that he had received 
his education in a school at Meiningen.* He was very 
friendly toward us, whereas the German Legations treated 
us with marked coldness. The wife of the Prussian 
Legationsrath (Councillor of Legation) von Pirch, by 
birth a Princess of Thurn und Taxis, was the only German 
lady who seemed to take pains to overlook my unaristo- 
cratic lineage. If I had been an American born the 
diplomatic corps would have approved of me to a greater 
degree; but as a German, and not of the nobility, I was 
a stumbling block in their path, which could not be 
ignored on account of my husband's official position. 
Besides the English Embassy, the members of the 
Russian aristocracy treated us with consideration. Their 
social tone was always as courteous as it was free from 
formal stiffness. In the drawing-rooms of the Russian 
nobility we made many pleasant acquaintances. I 
recall with special interest a friendly lady beside whom 
I found a seat at a very crowded soiree. She began to 
converse with me without waiting for an introduction, 
and we both agreed that the elegant society assembled 
around us offered very little that was worth taking home 
as a stimulus to the heart or the intellect. "II n'y a 
pourtant que le cercle intime qui donne de Vagrement" f 
was her resume, in which opinion I fully concurred. I 
was afterward told that I had been talking to the Princess 
Gagarin. 

Except for the duty of more securely binding the 
friendship of Russia to the United States, the business of 
the Legation was not of great importance, so that Taylor 

* The capital of the small Duchy of Saxe-Meiningen. 

t "After all, it is only our intimate circle that gives us enjoyment." 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 129 

was able to cope with it even without the assistance of a 
secretary. He had sufficient leisure to continue his 
novel, which he finished in the course of the winter, and 
also to write poetry. Among the poems that he wrote 
at this time was included the one entitled "A Thousand 
Years," which was suggested by the celebration of the 
thousandth anniversary of the founding of the Russian 
Empire, held at Novgorod on September 20th. This 
poem earned the thanks of the Emperor and raised its 
author above the usual level of the American representa- 
tives at the Russian Court. 

The apartment on the bel etage * that we had rented and 
where we made our home was situated in the Gallenoi 
(Galley Street), not far from the Admiralty Square 
and the Winter Palace. We had secured the services 
of Ivan, the chasseur who had been in the employ of the 
Legation for a number of years, and spoke English pretty 
well. We found him very useful in many ways; for 
instance, when sitting upon the box beside our stately 
Russian coachman, he would knock on the window pane 
to let us know that a member of the Imperial family was 
approaching in a carriage or on foot, so that we might 
be ready to make our salutation. This was necessary, 
for the Russian drivers, guiding their horses with four 
reins, drive at an exceedingly fast pace, and the carriages 
pass each other in a flash. In November I wrote to a 
friend concerning the many and varied sights that began 
to enliven St. Petersburg: 

"Winter alone gives one an insight into the life here. 
Society starts upon its gay round. Ladies and gentle- 

* Up one flight of stairs, considered the most elegant floor. 



i 3 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

men wrapped in costly sables drive swiftly along the 
Nevsky or the Neva Quai. The equipages, with thorough- 
bred horses, are magnificent; the portly coachmen wear 
bushy hair and thick beards, visorless round or square 
caps of red, sky-blue, or green velvet, edged with fur, 
and wide-skirted coats lined with fur and gathered in at 
the waist to a tight-fitting body portion — truly a superb 
sight!" 

And again in December: 

"Now we have sleighing, and it is pleasant to see the 
countless small sleighs pass by with bells a-ringing, but 
most beautiful of all is a troika dashing along with three 
horses abreast. The frozen Neva is covered with snow, 
and little pine trees mark the paths across the river, 
as well as poles surmounted by lanterns. At intervals 
Christmas booths are set up, made of boards, and the 
Finnish Lapps have arrived with their reindeer sledges; 
all these together form a strange and gay winter scene. 
The season's amusements indoors have also begun. 
We are going out more now, and notice it in the shrink- 
age of our purse. People dress expensively here, every 
evening in grande toilette, and everything that apper- 
tains to it is even dearer in St. Petersburg than in 
New York. In order to save as much as possible I spend 
a large portion of my time in altering and rearranging 
my not very extensive wardrobe in the most advantageous 
way, an occupation that begins to fill me with disgust, as 
it robs me of so much valuable time. I also miss the 
friends who used to drop in of an evening in New York, 
and with whom we could have confidential talks. In- 
stead, we must go among strangers here in order to get 
acquainted." 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 131 

We spent Christmas with my sister, her husband and 
children. Taylor gave me a beautiful watch, that he 
presented to me in a hatbox, hidden under a mass of 
loose bits of paper, a way in which he liked to conceal 
gifts. Soon after came the Russian New Year, and with 
it my presentation at Court. I used my best efforts to 
appear bien mise, and wore a white, very much pleated 
and puffed dress of tarlatan, which (to quote from my 
diary) "lay like freshly fallen snow upon a white silk 
lining." We drove up to the Winter Palace (alighting 
on the Perron de VEmpereur), laid aside our furs in the 
spacious vestibule, and proceeded up the broad carpeted 
stairway that was guarded by grenadiers. Above, at 
every entrance to the halls, were stationed two gigantic 
guards with bearskin caps a foot or two in height, as well 
as the body servants of the Emperor, black Nubians in 
white turbans and Indian shawls draped around shoulders 
and loins. The card-room, adjoining the superb hall 
of audience of the Empress, was the place where the diplo- 
matic corps assembled. Here I was introduced to the 
Maitresse de la Cour and to the Mattres de Ceremonies. 
The latter, distinguished by their Marshal's wands, wore 
coats richly embroidered with gold, white silk knee 
breeches, flesh-coloured stockings, and shoes with golden 
buckles. When all the hundreds of guests had arrived, 
and were waiting in the ballroom, the folding doors into 
the latter were thrown open for us. A fairy-like illumi- 
nation, produced by innumerable wax candles, met our 
eyes, while we were guided to a vacant space at one end 
of the immense hall, and drawn up in order of rank. 
In a few moments a " Sh! sh! " of the Masters of Ceremony 
heralded their majesties, who entered with the Grand 



i 3 2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Dukes and Duchesses and the entire household of the 
Court. The Empress looked very winning and at" the 
same time noble ; her toilette was at once rich and in the 
best of taste. She wore a dress of silk tulle over white 
silk. Hanging loosely on the full skirt, as if it had 
slipped down to her hips, a broad light-blue velvet sash, 
with a rope of diamonds twisted around it, girdled her 
form. On one side it was gathered into a knot, upon 
which a large fiery diamond sparkled and scintillated; 
between the long ends of the sash hung two ropes of 
large pearls. By her side was the Emperor,* in those 
days a very handsome and prepossessing man. He was 
tall and well proportioned, with a blond beard and 
moustache^ and a friendly expression of the eyes. He 
wore a uniform consisting of a white coat bordered with 
sable and laced with gold cord, close light-blue breeches, 
and black boots reaching almost to the knees. He 
carried a high fur cap in his hand. After the polonaise, 
which was opened by their majesties, the Emperor spoke 
with several high personages, and then conversed with the 
diplomatic corps. Taylor's turn came. The Emperor 
exchanged a few words with my husband, and then ad- 
dressed himself to me. As I had not expected this, not 
having been presented, I was somewhat taken aback by 
his first question, but retained my self-possession and 
answered him with confidence. He looked at me sharply, 
and wished to know to what nationality I belonged, how 
I had met my husband, how long I was married, and 
if I had any children. 

After several dances Count von Armfelt came for me 
and conducted me to the card-room, where he posted me 

♦Alexander II. 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 133 

at the head of a long row of ladies who were to be pre- 
sented; then the Empress appeared. She looked so 
sweet and good that I felt entirely at my ease. She asked 
me when I had arrived, whether the climate agreed with 
me, if I went out of doors or sleigh riding often? And 
thus the dreaded moment, that after all was not in the 
least dreadful, was happily past. 

During the course of this ball my husband introduced 
me to a number of diplomats and Russian high dignitaries, 
with the result that I was regularly initiated into St. 
Petersburg society. Among the acquaintances I made 
soon after were three unmarried Russian princesses, 
the youngest of whom might have been fifty, while the 
eldest was perhaps sixty-five years of age. The second 
sister, Princess Anne, represented the others in society 
(people said for reasons of economy) and acted as hostess 
at their home. We were told that all three had always 
shown an especial predilection for the American Min- 
isters, and had been most courteous to them. But of all 
the series, Pickens* had been the particular protege of 
Princess Anne, and scarcely had she made the acquaint- 
ance of Bayard Taylor when she inquired most solicit- 
ously what would become of Pickens in case the North 
should be victorious. "Oh, we will string him up!" 
was my husband's laughing rejoinder, and thenceforth 
they never met without a playful appeal from the Princess : 
"Monsieur, de grdce ne me pendez-pas mon Pickens, 
sauvez-moi mon Pickens! f The ladies had a mania for 
giving small dinners to the diplomats, and while the other 

* Francis W. Pickens, elected Governor of South Carolina, Novem- 
ber 26, i860. 

f'Sir, for pity's sake, do not hang my Pickens, save my Pickens 
for me!" 



i 34 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

two sisters remained more or less in the background, 
Princess Anne played the amiable hostess. On one of 
the occasions the eldest princess expressed herself very 
bitterly to me concerning the emancipation of the serfs, 
which had lately been proclaimed by Alexander II. The 
income of the sisters had probably been reduced by this 
event, for the Princess, touching her diamond ear-drops, 
said to me: "It is equivalent to the Czar's taking these 
away from me." At one of these little dinners an old 
Russian general happened to be my neighbour at the 
table. During our conversation the old gentleman, who 
sat opposite my husband, suddenly said to me : " Madame, 
il faut que je vous fats mon compliment qui conceme voire 
mari. Je ne me souviens guere d 'avoir vu un si bel homme 
avec une expression si spirituelle." * It need hardly be 
said that we became friends. 

This Russian was not the only person who was charmed 
by the personal magnetism of my husband. The Grand 
Duchesses Helen and Marie (Duchess of Leuchtenberg) 
showed him special favour on more than one occasion, 
and even the Empress engaged him in a lengthy conver- 
sation at one of the smaller Court balls. Taylor was then 
able to speak Russian to some extent, which seemed to 
please Her Majesty very much. Besides these functions, 
when the Emperor always had some pleasant words for 
us, we saw him from time to time in the houses of the high 
Russian nobility. He never danced there, but instead 
played a game of cards, in which usually the old Countess 
Russamowsky took part. This old lady of over ninety 
was always in evidence in society. She was powdered 

* "Madam, I must pay you a compliment concerning your husband. 
I scarcely ever remember to have seen so handsome a man with so 
spiritual an expression.' ' 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 135 

and painted, with black hair (or wig), an erect figure in 
a low-necked, short-sleeved gown. Her voice was a deep 
bass, and once when we called upon her we were mysti- 
fied by a gruff throaty sound that accompanied her words, 
until we discovered that this note was the growling of a 
small dog, held by the Countess under her arm and con- 
cealed by a black lace shawl. 

Taylor did not play cards, neither did he dance, and 
as I only occasionally joined in a quadrille, the balls soon 
began to grow tiresome. There were always the same 
conventional phrases, always the same vapid conver- 
sations, and the brilliant superficial glamour gradually 
began to pall on us. A few dinners and petite s soirees 
were the agreeable exceptions to this general rule. In 
Lent the routs took the place of the balls. A musicale was 
given in the English Embassy to celebrate the marriage 
of the Prince of Wales, and we listened to the exquisite 
playing of the youthful Rubinstein, who was even then 
the spoiled darling of the Russian aristocracy. One of 
the last large entertainments of the winter season was 

given by the Count and Countess C , and proved to be 

the most brilliant of all the routs, although the highest 
nobility was very sparingly represented. The reason 
for this lay in the mesalliance of the Countess. A member 
of one of the oldest princely families of Russia, and the 
middle-aged widow of a Russian of equal rank, she had 
married while living in Paris a Frenchman much younger 
than herself, and not of aristocratic blood. In order to 
acquire for him the rank of a nobleman, she had bought 
in his name a castle in Brittany, which conferred upon its 

owner the titles of Count of C and Marquis of S . 

The husband, however, was an educated man of agree- 



i 3 6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

able presence and tactful manners. Taylor one day, in 
a small company gathered around our tea table, com- 
mented upon the philosophical turn of mind of Count 
C , and remarked that he proclaimed never to be sur- 
prised or anxious, that he bore happiness or ill-luck with 

equal calmness, whereupon Prince G replied: "Why 

shouldn't he? II a ete si souvent dans V entourage de la 
mort."* "Comment caV'\ I questioned. "But are you 
not aware that his father made coffins?" As it was the 
first fete that the Countess gave after her return from 
Paris, she sought to regain by brilliance and splendour 
what she had lost of prestige. She had succeeded so well 
in this endeavour, with the help of her immense wealth 
and her palace filled with art treasures of all kinds, that 
even the aristocratic Russians, accustomed as they were 
to splendour, exclaimed: "Mais, c'est imperial!" At 
this festivity we saw the old Russian custom carried into 
effect, of exhibiting the family jewels in the bedchamber 
of the mistress of the house. They were exposed in glass 
cases, and occupied a long table; a maid and several 
lackeys stood guard over them. They consisted of 
diamonds, pearls, rubies, and emeralds. The latter alone 
represented an enormous fortune. 

At this time — in the month of March — a lucky chance 
enabled Bayard Taylor to render an important service to 
his Government. A despatch from the Confederate 
Government to their agent, who had shortly before 
arrived in St. Petersburg, had strayed into the Legation 
of the United States, and having thus got into the hands 
of the legitimate representative, was promptly sent by 

* "He has been so often in the neighbourhood of death! " 
f'How is that?" 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 137 

him to Washington. But in spite of all the services that 
Taylor had succeeded in rendering the Government 
during the time he was Charge a 1 ' Affaires, he had known 
for some time past that he had no chance of securing the 
higher post. Late in November Mr. Cameron had 
written to him that the President, who "had been 
greatly troubled by Mr. Clay, in an unguarded moment 
had made a partial promise to let him go back" if he 
(Cameron) should not wish to return. " It was agreed," 
he continued, " that I should not resign before February. 
. . . This leaves you in charge till the spring, and 
gives your friends time to urge your case." Although 
Cameron did not cease his solicitations in the matter, 
he was finally obliged to cut off all further hope of the 
position. In a letter of February 4th he wrote : 

"I have again been to Washington, and am sorry to 
say that it seems to be determined that Mr. Clay shall 
supplant you. Mr. Seward urges an early appointment, 
and the President excuses himself by falling back on his 
promise to Clay when he did not expect me to resign the 
post. He admits your ability and worth, and seems to 
regret his promise." 

The middle of March Mr. Clay was nominated as 
Cameron's successor, but his confirmation by the Senate 
was only pushed through at the urgent request of the 
President and Mr. Seward, according to the information 
conveyed to Mr. Cameron by a Senator. The latter 
told him " Mr. Seward spent more than an hour urging 
it upon me ; I felt it my duty to vote against him. The 
ayes and noes were ordered and he was confirmed with 
13 noes." 



138 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

When it became known that the former Minister 
would return the general regret that my husband was not 
to receive the post manifested itself in open displeasure 
in the highest circles. The very next evening, at a 
soiree given by Prince Gortchacow, one of the Masters 
of Ceremony came up to Taylor with an exclamation of 
the greatest indignation. ''Quel dommage pour la 
societe" * said the French Ambassador. " It's a shame," 
added the Duchess of Montebello, while others made 
remarks in the same tenor. We, on the other hand, 
were not inconsolable. We had been longing for home; 
and although the position of Minister would be one of 
honour, and we had begun to make friends in the society 
among which we moved, yet the constraint and the 
careful observance of empty formalities that etiquette 
forced upon us had already become a wearisome burden. 
To return to our accustomed sphere, in which we could 
move freely and live for our dearest interests — this was 
a prospect that could only please us. And still it seemed 
as if this consummation, as far as my husband was con- 
cerned, lay in the future. Not only was he obliged to 
remain until the arrival of the Minister, while I avoided 
this by going with our little daughter to my parents, but 
a project that Mr. Cameron had previously broached 
prevented his return home for the present. A letter 
from Mr. Cameron, received in the beginning of May, ran 
thus: 

"LocmEL,t April 20, 1863. 
"Dear Taylor: I was at Washington last week, and had 
a very plain talk with the President and Mr. Seward 

* "What a pity for society." 

t Cameron's country place, near Harrisburg. 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 139 

about the appointment of my successor to Russia — 
which terminated in your benefit. Your letter enabled 
me to say positively that you would not remain in the 
Legation.* I spoke again of Persia. The Secretary 
said a mission had been created some years ago, but no 
appropriation had been made. The friendship of Russia 
and the unfriendliness of England were freely spoken 
of — then the position of Persia on the map — near to 
Russia, desired probably by her — bordering on India and 
therefore an object of interest to England, was looked at, 
and Seward and the President soon came to the con- 
clusion that an American Minister would be an object 
of interest there. To my mind it was plain that the 
thought had wisdom in it — and besides I was glad to 
urge it as a payment, in part, of our gratitude to Russia — 
for I think governments, as well as individuals, should 
be grateful. The Secretary said he had been thinking of 
this for some time — but the trouble had been to get the 
man. A little more conversation convinced him that you 
were the very man. The President encouraged it ; indeed, 
seemed to light on you at once — and to be glad of the 
opportunity to convince me of the respect and confidence 
he entertains for you. So I was commissioned to write 
to you — and to beg that you will remain with Mr. Clay 
till your successor arrives. He will bring out your 
instructions for Persia and you will be paid out of some 
fund in the State Department. This is to be entirely kept 
to yourself. I have promised to mention it only to you. 
You will probably see the propriety of communicating it 
to Prince Gortchacow — but if so, under the seal of con- 
fidence, and it should not even extend to Mr. Clay." 

As Taylor had kept a like plan in mind for some years 
past, to travel in the then almost unknown regions of 
Central Asia, nothing could have pleased him more than 

*As Secretary. 



i 4 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

this prospect. A diplomatic mission to Persia would 
enable him not only to render service to his country, but 
at the same time to find the means and the material for 
a work that should embody the final results of his knowl- 
edge of human nature, accumulated in so many different 
lands and form, as it were, a cosmos of mankind. In 
all his descriptions of travel his greatest interest centred 
in the people whom he encountered. A quality in his 
nature that led men to confide in him, helped him to 
an insight into human nature and its secrets such as is 
vouchsafed to few. In his poem, "The Palm and the 
Pine," he referred to this characteristic, as he had himself 
in mind when he wrote the verses : 

"So, with untaught, instinctive art, 
He read the myriad-natured heart. 

He met the men of many a land; 
They gave their souls into his hand." 

But all these plans for the future came to naught. 
His successor arrived — and brought nothing for him. 
He waited months in Germany for instructions from the 
Government, but received no word of any kind. At 
last, grown weary of waiting, he left Europe, sailed home, 
and went to Washington. The President was very much 
surprised to see him, as he supposed him to have gone 
to Persia long ago. When Mr. Seward was asked for an 
explanation of this matter, he was not able to give any 
information, and it finally seemed evident that he had 
let the affair drop intentionally. 

After this digression I revert to St. Petersburg, where 
Taylor was expecting the arrival of the Minister. The 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 141 

latter came on April 30th, and my husband wrote to me 
on May 6th: 

"Clay will be received by the Emperor to-morrow 
(Thursday) at 1 o'clock, at which time my rule and 
responsibility terminate. . . . 

" . . . I dined with Gortchacow on Monday night. 
It was a diplomatic affair — everybody there. Russia 
sat between France and England, and all three were as 
jolly together as if there was no such thing as Poland. 
. . . The Prince was exceedingly friendly to me, 
spoke of my poem to the Russian officials, and said the 
Emperor keeps fast hold of it. . . . I have written 
nothing on my new poem * for a week past — no time. 
I shall be tolerably busy from this time on, as so many 
little things crowd together in the last days. I begin to 
feel the pressure of them now, and shall be glad when 
I am once more the other side of Eydtkuhnen.f I shall 
let you know in a week about the time I expect to reach 
Berlin ; but I presume that it will be time enough for you 
to join me after I get there." 

Again he wrote, May 15th: 

" I had an interview to-day with Gortchacow, who was 
exceedingly cordial. The Persian matter seemed to 
please him, and he promised me the full assistance of the 
Russian Government, including that of the Grand Duke 

Michael. J . . . C and I have just come from 

E 's, who send you their love. The dinner was better 

than usual. Last night I took tea at Locock's — Napiers 
were there, and my poems § received much praise. . . . 
To-day I took leave of the Armfeldts: the Count was 

*"The Picture of St. John." 
fThe frontier town. 
% The Governor of the Caucasus. 
§ "The Poet's Journal." 



i 4 2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

very tender, and said that the collective society of St. 
Petersburg is very sorry to lose us. Some of the other 
Ministers have called to say good-bye to me. To-day 
the Marquis Pepoli, excessively cordial. Much of this is 
conventional, but there may be a little good feeling at the 
bottom of it. I understand that Ivan has been saying 
around that we kept the only akuratni dom (properly 
managed household) which the Legation ever knew. 
He hangs around me and looks after my wants, as if he 
would rather wait on me than on his new master." 

After a few days at Gotha Taylor again set out, to 
see the Bohmerwald, where he hoped to rind a back- 
ground for his long poem, "The Picture of St. John," 
that had occupied his mind much of late, after a lapse 
of almost a decade since its inception. He wrote to me 
from Amberg, in the upper Palatinate : 

" I reached here last night at seven o'clock, and could 
have gone on to Cham by the night train, two hours 
later; but the scenery was so very beautiful that I did 
not wish to lose it in the darkness. ... I shall 
reach Cham about noon to-day, and go this afternoon 
(probably with an einspdnner) as far as Kotzting, in the 
midst of the Bohmer, at the foot of the Great Arberberg 
. . . came from Nuremberg in a very slow freight train, 
which gave me a good chance of seeing the country. . . . 
The scenery is charming thus far— wild, broken, rocky 
valleys, and an astonishing luxuriance of vegetation." 

In Kotzingen my husband found what he had been 
seeking — the mountain valley that was to be the home 
of his hero, with 

"Arber's head unshorn"* 

looming above. 

*"The Picture of St. John," Book I. 



THE ST. PETERSBURG EPISODE 143 

After his return we accepted the invitation of the 
reigning Duke Ernest II. to the beautiful Castle Callen- 
berg, near Coburg, and spent two most enjoyable days 
with the ducal couple, in absolute privacy, without the 
intervention of Court Marshal or Lady-in-waiting. In 
the evening, after dinner, we adjourned to the lofty and 
spacious terrace of the castle. The Duchess, embroider- 
ing by the light of a lamp, wished me to sit beside her; 
the gentlemen stood around and smoked — the Duke used 
a long German pipe, and a lackey stood at his elbow 
ready to relight it as often as it went out during the 
lively flow of talk. Tea was served and all conversed 
without ceremony. The princely couple related inter- 
esting incidents of their African tour, from which they 
had recently returned; the Duke told us how a troop of 
monkeys had attacked him and his hunting party in a 
mountain pass in Abyssinia, hurling stones, fruit, branches 
and other missiles upon them from above. Somewhat 
later the Duchess broached the subject of the different 
courts, and recounted a visit in Weimar, where a certain 
room in the castle was reserved exclusively for persons of 
princely birth and such others as bore the rank of " Ex- 
cellenz." In a spirit of mischief she had sent her lady-in- 
waiting, who was ignorant of this fact — "You know her," 
she added in an aside to me — into the sacred precincts. 
"Go into that room and look at the beautiful pictures," 
she had said, and then had watched with secret merriment 
the indignant countenances that were turned upon the 
unconscious and innocent offender. 

Thus the hours passed pleasantly; the night was mild, 
the stars sparkled above, and the fountain made faint 
music with its tinkling waters. Next morning we 



i 4 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

breakfasted with the Duke and Duchess, and then took 
our departure with the sensation of having enriched our 
memories by a delightful experience. 

We had no premonition of the sad news awaiting us on 
our return to Gotha. My youngest brother-in-law, 
Frederick Taylor, had been killed on the second day of 
the battle at Gettysburg by a bullet through the heart. 
He had been commissioned Major in September of the 
previous year, and in December was promoted to the 
rank of Colonel of the Bucktails. Arriving on the 
battlefield after a forced march, he fell at the head of 
his regiment. The news of his death caused us to hasten 
our return, and we arrived in New York early in Sep- 
tember. 



CHAPTER IX 

Three Prolific Years 

A Swiss gentleman of Lausanne, Monsieur Carey, had 
accompanied us on our homeward voyage with the 
intention of claiming Bayard Taylor's elder sister for his 
wife, and their marriage was quietly celebrated soon 
afterward. This event, and our return, were the occasion 
for an almost uninterrupted stream of guests at "Cedar- 
croft," who gave its mistress much to look after until 
the departure of the newly wedded couple at the end 
of October, when comparative quiet settled down upon 
us. My husband and part of the family accompanied 
the travellers to the steamer. Taylor wrote to me from 
New York: "No accident occurred except that a little 
boy on board the steamer at Amboy got partly under 
Emma's hoops. She thought it was a tin bucket, gave a 
kick and knocked the child flat on the deck. He fell on his 
nose, and yelled awfully." Another letter, dated November 
29th, " In the library of J. L. G.," * read as follows : 

"I snatch a moment this morning to say that I am 
getting on very well. My lectures at Cohoes and Po'- 
keepsie were attended by very large audiences and were 
entirely successful. Yesterday I came here, and was 
engaged all day with Putnam in arranging for a wider 
sale of 'Hannah.' . . . The notices of the book are 

♦James Lorimer Graham, and his wife Josephine, were numbered 
among oui most intimate New York friends. 

145 



1 46 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

capital — better than I could have expected. They all 
speak of the truth of the characters — and all say that it 
is a success." 

Later he wrote me the following: 

"I have found quarters for us. A parlor and two 
bedrooms with board and two grate fires, gas, etc. $45. 
per week. My friends say it is not dear. The situation 
is just what we want. I have said that we shall come 
about New Years. Are you not glad? So, don't let the 
household troubles worry you too much, for you'll soon 
have a good rest." 

On December nth a son, Lorimer, was born to the 
Stoddards. He inherited the artistic temperament of 
his parents, but was fated to sink into his grave at the 
beginning of the new century, just as he was reaping the 
golden first fruits of his dramatic work, while his aged 
father and mother were left to mourn. In those days 
immediately after his birth Mrs. Stoddard declared that 
she was hoping for the ravens of the Prophet Elijah to 
come and feed the child ; for the wedded poets were not in 
easy circumstances at this time, and the Civil War had 
made living most expensive. 

At the New Year we moved to New York for three 
months. During this time poetry was forced to yield 
to prose, since the plan for another novel, "John God- 
frey's Fortunes," was clamouring for visible form. 
Meanwhile our old friends gathered around us, and a 
lively social intercourse claimed much of our time. 
Each Sunday evening we saw a small select circle of 
friends congregate in our rooms. The Stoddards, Sted- 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 147 

mans, McEntees, Aldrich, Launt Thompson, the Grahams 
were habitues, to whom were often added the two Cranches, 
Fitz-Hugh Ludlow and wife, Sanford Gifford, and some- 
times Edwin Booth and others. These evenings were 
enlivened by the "Diversions," which in later years 
Bayard Taylor published in amplified form in the " Echo 
Club," and which afforded an entertainment sparkling 
with wit and humour. This amusement was the con- 
tinuation of a jeu d 1 esprit that originated in the middle 
of the fifties, when the trio of poets, Stoddard, Taylor 
and Fitz- James O'Brien, vied in the exuberance of their 
imagination with each other in the production of short 
comic poems whenever they met in Stoddard's quarters. 

These poetic gymnastics supplemented by parodies of 
noted poets were a never-failing source of the most 
delightful entertainment. As soon as one of our sons of 
the Muses had finished his inspiration of the moment, he 
read it aloud amid the laughing applause of his hearers, 
who were never at fault in guessing the poet he had 
parodied, so unmistakable was the imitation of the 
principal characteristics of his poetic expression. 

Of the many happy and witty impromptus, which thus 
mimicked the voices of the poets, I am tempted to quote 
an echo of Longfellow, a skit of my husband's, which 
proved such a close parody that he never gave it out of 
his hands during the lifetime of his revered friend, the poet. 

"The Enclosure of the Swine 

"O'er the fragile rampart leaning, 
Which enclosed the herd of swine, 
Thoughts of vast and wondrous meaning 
Flitted through this brain of mine. 



i 4 8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"There the mingling creatures grunted, 
Gathered at their daily meal; 
Some were old, with tushes blunted, 
Some had hardly learned to squeal. 

" Some, with stomachs swelled and sated 
Plethoric and contented lay; 
Some, with haste exaggerated 
Rushed to drain their swill away. 

"One, intent his thirst to smother, 
Placed his foot within the trough; 
Jostled one his weaker brother, 
Trod him down or pushed him off. 

" In the world's immense arena, 
In the rails inclosing Life, 
Man towards man is even meaner, 
And more gluttonous in his strife. 

" Gorged and sated with their plunder 
Some lie down to lives obese, 
While the weak look on and wonder, 
And the timid cry for peace. 

" Some but catch in petty driblets, 
Food to soothe the hungry sense; 
Others swell their fattened giblets 
At their brethren's sad expense. 

"Life, alas! is such enclosure, 
Men are but a taller swine: 
'Tis a thought which gives composure 
To this pensive soul of mine." 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 149 

During this and the following winters we kept up an 
agreeable intercourse with the artists, whom we often 
visited in their studios. Art was young then in America, 
but among its pioneers there are names that will not be 
forgotten. McEntee, who looked like a Van Dyck, 
charmed us by his autumn and winter landscapes with 
their elegiac atmosphere. In the studio of Gifford — 
whose head called to mind a Valasquez — we basked in the 
glow of Venetian sunsets. Coleman showed us his 
beautiful picture of the Alhambra; Eastman Johnson 
his folk-songs translated into colour; Frederick Church 
his large picture of Chimborazo — and in Kensett's 
atelier we turned over his portfolios of poetical sketches of 
mountain and sea. At Launt Thompson's — a jolly good 
fellow, the cast of whose features, pointed beard, and full, 
curly hair always put us in mind of an antique faun — 
we enjoyed looking at his excellent portrait busts, 
Bryant's Homeric head, and Booth, whom he represented 
as v the meditating Hamlet. In McEntee's homelike 
studio his wife Gertrude invited us to appetising lunch- 
eons, where a successful potato salad graced the board, 
to prove to me that she had made good use of my recipe. 
In those days the opening receptions of the exhibitions 
at the Academy of Design were grand social affairs; 
invitations were extended to men of note, with their 
womankind, and as New York was not so large then as 
now, everyone knew everyone else and people enjoyed 
themselves. There was present at one of these receptions 
a well-known clergyman, who was said to be so convinced 
of his own importance that he waited for a vacancy in the 
Trinity. My husband, mistaking this gentleman from 
the shape of his shoulders for Launt Thompson, slapped 



iSo ON TWO CONTINENTS 

him roundly on the back, with the words, " How are you, 
old fellow!" The horrified face that met his eyes as the 
clergyman turned around was wont to excite Taylor's 
hilarity whenever he recalled it. 

The happy and animated social life of this and the 
following winters, although interrupted once in a while 
by lecture engagements, did not keep my husband from 
ever-renewed literary activity. Besides working on his 
new novel, "The Picture of St. John" again claimed the 
exercise of his poetic imagination. Among other smaller 
poems he conceived and wrote the one entitled " Harpo- 
crates," which always seemed to me to be a milestone in 
the spiritual evolution of my poet, for the time had come 
when his pleasure in the enjoyment of life, pure and 
simple, that, conjointly with his thirst for knowledge, had 
driven him forth into the world, was giving place in his 
mind to a higher intellectual aspiration. He found a 
means of advance on this new pathway in his great work, 
the translation of "Faust" into English, which he now 
took up in earnest. While he had long cherished this 
plan, he had hitherto translated only single songs, as 

"Castles, with lofty 
Ramparts and towers," 

and "Margaret at the Spinning Wheel"; but now he 
could no longer withstand its fascination. "John God- 
frey" was finished, and "Faust" would not be banished. 
The creative joy that then took possession of him is best 
portrayed in a letter to Mrs. Stoddard, which I am 
fortunate in possessing. We had just returned from a 
visit of several days to the Stoddards at Buzzard's 
Bay, when Taylor wrote : 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 151 

"Cedarcroft, Sept. 6, 1864. 

"Tuesday. 
"Dear Lizzie: 

" We reached home just in time. This is the third day 
of the dark, delightful, driving storm which followed us, 
and God knows how the earth needed its present soaking. 
Either the sea air or the gritty whetstone of your and 
Dick's society has put a keener edge on my brain, for in 
the two past days I have accomplished wonders. On 
Sunday morning I felt a ravenous hunger for some diffi- 
cult intellectual task, and took up the archangelic chorus 
in the prologue to Faust, which has been my despair for 
years. In two hours it was transmuted into English. 
Marie was in ecstacies, declaring that it was the veritable 
perfect original. Then I took the wonderful Easter 
choruses, the hymn to the Virgin, and three other bits of 
intricate, almost impossible performances, giving measure 
for measure, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme. . . . 
I am now satisfied that I can produce a translation of 
Faust which will take its permanent place in literature, 
to the exclusion of all other translations. . . . Prob- 
ably I shall not do much more this fall. Last night 
I took up ' St. John, ' and its flowing, narrative heroic 
ran from my pen like oil, after those hard nuts of 
Goethe. . . . 

" I must tell you again what a perfect enjoyment those 
five days were to both of us. . . . Love to Dick. 
"Yours equinoctially, 

"B. T." 

Poetic production kept pace with the improvement and 
adornment of our country home. The ground was en- 
riched and cultivated, the orchards were enlarged, a 
small vineyard was laid out, and a protecting wall built 
along the north side of the vegetable garden, on the 
southern face of which figs and pomegranates were to 
ripen later. A stable was built behind the house, and a 



1>2 



ON TWO CONTINENTS 



small conservatory added, opening directly from the 
library in -which my husband worked. In May the 
wistaria bloomed enchantingly ; its countless racemes of 
pale lilac flowers framed the great window of the pro- 
jecting southern bay, while somewhat later the scarlet 
clusters of the trumpet-creeper opened their flaming 
beaks on the corner pillars of the verandas; on still days 
the humming birds with iridescent green and gold 
plumage were attracted by the brilliant colour, and, poised 
in midair with wings a-whirr, dipped their long, sharp 
bills into the trumpet-shaped flowers, sipping their honey. 
In the hot summer evenings we would sit upon the terrace 
before the house, welcoming every passing breath of air, 
and to offset the short twilight of these latitudes the after- 
glow of an orange and vermilion sunset lit up the western 
sky with gorgeous tints, and the silver light of the crescent 
moon, paired with the evening star, shed its mild radiance 
over the dark grey vault of night. Or the great blood-red 
ball of the harvest moon rose slowly above our grove of 
"dark Dodonian oak trees," * and the quiet was broken 
only by the voices of myriad katydids. Those were 
times when we enjoyed the freedom and the simple 
pleasures of country life to the utmost, for we were young 
still, and hopeful, and thought but little of the troubles 
and obstacles that sometimes opposed us. For my hus- 
band, particularly, there were no difficulties that he did 
not hope to overcome ; he had heretofore been wonderfully 
successful in everything he had undertaken, and why 
should he not continue to be so? This confidence in- 
fected me and rendered me also blind to the practical side 
of many things. Thus we made mistakes in the arrange- 

* Epilogue to the "Home Pastorals." 




From a painting by hiys-rd Tajric 



'CEDARCROFT" 




From a painting by Bayard Taylor 

•CEDARCROFT'' AND ITS LAWN 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 153 

ment of our life that we were afterward obliged to atone 
for, as the way of the world demands. And yet, what 
mattered it in the end! If men and women can be 
happy we certainly were. 

Meanwhile the fortunes of war had turned more and 
more toward the side of the North, so that I was able to 
write to my mother in the middle of May: 

" We have official news that Grant is advancing daily on 
Richmond, that Butler is threatening the city from the 
south, and that Sheridan's cavalry has cut off the railway 
communication of the rebels. At the same time, battles 
are raging in Georgia, which result in our favor. . . . 
General Grant is just the commander whom we need. 
After his first great battle, when he ordered the troops to 
advance, instead of retreating, as heretofore, the army, 
accustomed to the latter manoeuvre, was so overjoyed that 
the men burst into cheers. When the battle had lasted 
several days, Lee sent an officer with a flag of truce to 
Grant, to ask for an armistice of forty-eight hours to 
bury his dead. The former commander of the army 
had granted a like request under similar circumstances, 
but instead of burying their dead, the enemy had de- 
camped. Therefore Grant's answer was, ' I have no time 
to bury my own dead; tell your General that I shall ad- 
vance immediately! ' This news fills us with great hope." 

In spite of the steadily increasing price of everything 
pertaining to the necessaries of life, in consequence of 
the long-continued war, commerce and manufacture had 
picked up wonderfully of late. We also reaped the ad- 
vantage of this. The Tribune paid good dividends again, 
and the books yielded an ample income. This enabled 
us to take winter quarters in New York, in the central 
part of the city, whither we repaired shortly after New 



i 5 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Year, 1865. There on January nth we celebrated my 
husband's fortieth birthday with a jolly party. Without 
his knowledge, I invited a number of good friends to 
supper, and the surprise thus prepared for him was 
entirely successful. In the best of spirits we sat down 
to a table covered with all sorts of good and delectable 
dishes, but the real fun did not begin until the dessert 
was put on the table. R. H. Stoddard introduced him- 
self as Secretary of an imaginary Committee for the 
Celebration, and read a paper in this character, as well 
as a number of letters expressing regrets for inability to 
accept the invitation, from several guests who were 
nevertheless present. This was followed by the presenta- 
tion of the absurdest gifts that each could invent, ac- 
companied by the recital of witty poems composed and 
memorised for the occasion. 

My husband was so touched by all the proofs of 
friendship he received in the course of the evening that 
he, on the spot, improvised some verses to express his 
feelings. As he jotted them down at the time, I am 
able to quote them: 

"Should he be glad, above whose head 
The fourth completed decade's fled? 
Or grieve, that Time begins to score 
For youthful three, the ripened four ? 
Who shall decide which season's best — 
Youth, with its warm, believing breast, 
Its misty glimpse of formless Art, 
Its lushy green of brain and heart, 
So quick to trust, so slow to doubt, 
So kindly loath at finding out — 
Or that mysterious Middle-age 
Whose term no astronomic sage 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 155 

Can fix, for while the young declare 

It ne'er begins, the old ones swear 

It never ends — but this is true, 

Your friends make known the fact to you. 

And friends beloved, whom here I see 

Still lend their fresher youth to me — 

Still make me feel, while Time departs, 

The grace that dwells in equal hearts. 

Be to me ever as to-night 

And I shall know no setting light 

Of love, and joy in all things fair, 

And light as thirty, forty wear. 

Yea, though as bald my head should grow 

As Lorry Graham's, or white as snow, 

Like Stoddard's pow, or tho' my face 

Stedman's imposing mien should grace, 

Or Mac Entee's, severe and grand, 

Or Barry of the outstretched hand, 

Or though I speak with Delphic breath 

Like the august Elizabeth, 

Or stateliness with grace combine 

Like Gertrude, Music's nymph divine, 

Or look on life with eyes serene 

Like thee, true-hearted Josephine — 

Still shall I keep my youth intact, 

In feeling, thought, and speech and act, 

And fast though still the years intrude, 

I'll meet them now with Forty tude." 

This celebration ushered in a season of agreeable social 
gatherings, interrupted at intervals by lectures which 
Taylor was obliged to deliver in other cities. With the 
approach of spring, however, we felt drawn again to 
"Cedarcroft." The country was already beginning to 
blossom and put forth green leaves when we returned 



156 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

home. Soon afterward, we celebrated the marriage of 
my husband's youngest sister, who was also about to 
leave the old home. Her fiance, Charles Lamborn, a 
very handsome young man of Quaker parentage, had 
passed through the campaigns in the South in safety, and 
had been retired from the army with the honourary title 
of Colonel. He now held an appointment in a railroad 
office, which enabled him to support a family. He after- 
ward rose step by step to an important position. 

At last peace was proclaimed throughout the land — 
followed almost immediately by the assassination of 
President Lincoln. Let me describe these events in the 
words that I used in a letter to my mother in the middle 
of April : 

"How much has happened in these last weeks! First 
victory after victory, waving banners and triumphant 
jubilation throughout the whole wide continent; then 
our beautiful family celebration; and now the dreadful 
murderous deed in Washington! When we arrived in 
Philadelphia on April 3d, on our way hither from New 
York, we soon noticed that something had happened. 
The old bell of the City Hall was ringing, and crowds were 
collecting. 'It must be a fire,' said some one near us. 
'It can't be a fire,' I said to my husband, 'just see how 
pleased the people look.' Suddenly a four-horse wagon 
came thundering along, the horses decked with flags, 
and a man in shirt sleeves standing upon it, waving a 
flag in one hand and his cap in the other, and shouting 
'hurrah!' The crowd answered with cheers and shouts 
as the horses galloped past. Other wagons followed, all 
hastily decorated, till they became a real triumphal pro- 
cession. We had difficulty in getting through the con- 
stantly increasing crowd, and were hardly able to restrain 
our joy over the taking of Richmond — for this was the 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 157 

cause of rejoicing. The crowd was a motley throng 
of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen shoulder to 
shoulder with labourers and mechanics; strangers fell 
upon each other's neck, all faces reflected a common joy. 
A week later came the second grand tidings of victory, 
Lee's surrender of the Southern army. The Kennett 
people bought powder enough for one hundred cannon 
shots. After the ninetieth, the cannon was hauled to the 
lawn in front of our house, to give us the benefit of the 
last salvos. As night was falling, the people came with 
torches, and as soon as we saw what they intended to 
do, we collected our supply of candles, put them quickly 
into the necks of empty bottles, and illuminated the tower 
from top to bottom, as well as the front of the house. 
Then we lighted a great bonfire of old barrels and chips, 
and the cannon 'belched its thunder.' The farm- 
houses far and near were illuminated; whoever had bells 
rang them ; and those who had none hammered on gongs 
or tin pans. There was joy everywhere, for we knew 
that now there would be peace. 

" The dreadful news of the assassination of the President 
reached Taylor and myself when we were on our way to 
Philadelphia. When the train stopped at a station, a 
sudden awe-struck whisper went from one seat of the car 
to another: 'Lincoln is murdered.' At first we could 
not believe it — it was too dreadful. But when we came 
into Philadelphia, and saw the flags everywhere at half 
mast, we knew that he was dead." 

The summer brought us welcome guests, the Stedmans, 
McEntees, Boker and other city friends in succession. 
George Boker, a man used to the luxuries of life, seemed 
satisfied with the fame that his earlier dramatic works, 
his sonnets and patriotic lyrics at the beginning of the 
war had earned for him. After his first youthful fire had 
cooled, he let his poetic wings droop more and more. But 



158 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

he remained an attractive man, an agreeable, refined 
companion, and a very dear and intimate friend of my 
husband. A visit of several days from him never failed 
to leave a salutary impression upon Bayard Taylor, to be 
followed by renewed poetic inspiration. The visit of the 
Stedmans, who brought their elder boy with them, was 
an event in our country life. Our friends came in the 
first days of June. The sky was a deep blue, and " Cedar- 
croft" was never more entrancing. 

". . . tulip trees and smooth magnolias hung 
A million leaves between us and the blue," * 

and the -gentle breeze from the wood was fragrant with 

" . . . ambrosial musk 
Of wild grape blossoms." f 

This exquisite weather tempted us to go forth and 
spend the day beside the Brandywine Creek, where it 
winds its gentle course between woods and meadows 
six miles distant. We started in the morning, and took 
plenty of provisions for the day. No cloudlet flecked 
the pure azure of the sky, the warm air was laden with 
the aromatic breath of blossoming grasses, flowering 
shrubs, and the fresh foliage of the woods; all nature 
was in its most vivid and joyous mood. We camped 
merrily on the banks of the little stream, at a place 
where a rich green meadow stretches away for some 
distance, hemmed in on one side by a thickly-wooded 
ridge, on the other by a grove of mighty oaks. Here 

*"The Poet's Journal." 
flbid. 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 159 

we unpacked the hampers and enjoyed ourselves. 
Stedman and Taylor waded barefoot through the 
cool ripples of the shallow stream, long staffs in their 
hands, while Laura Stedman and I, with the children, 
were weaving wreaths and garlands of oak leaves and 
wildflowers — when on a sudden a herd of upward of a 
hundred head of cattle appeared at the upper end of the 
meadow, apparently attracted by our presence. Slowly 
they approached, and drew up in line of battle, so that 
we began to question if it might not be best to seek 
safety in flight. But the animals also seemed to be 
deliberating. They halted, and then a reconnoitring 
party of about a dozen magnificent steers, fattened 
upon the richest meadow pasture, slowly advanced 
toward us. As they did not seem to have any hostile 
intentions, we quietly allowed them to come up. Taylor, 
following the sudden merry impulse of the moment^ 
seized one of our wreaths and wound it around the horns 
of the largest steer ; then he grasped a branch of oak and 
offered another to Stedman. The latter sprang upon the 
steer's back, while Taylor led it by the horns. Mrs. 
Stedman, I, and the children at once followed in single 
file, and our negro servant headed the procession, carry- 
ing the pail of milk punch. Thus we marched around in 
happy mood, like Arcadians of old, bringing an oblation 
to the god of joy. 

The victory was assured, the cattle moved peacefully 
away, and we saw them no more. The poetic result of 
this beautiful day along the idyllic Brandywine is em- 
bodied in the sonnets published respectively in E. C. 
Stedman's and Bayard Taylor's collected poems. 

I call to mind also the friendly visits exchanged with 



160 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the family of Dr. William H. Furness, the cultured and 
highly intellectual Unitarian clergyman, who lived in 
Philadelphia, but spent the summer at the country 
house of his son, Dr. Horace Furness, " Lindenshade," 
between the latter city and Kennett. Our friendship 
with this talented family gave rise to an interchange of 
pleasant poetical fancies, among them a truly German 
poem by my husband, which I refrain from quoting, as 
the charming little episode has been published else- 
where.* 

But our guests were not all of this mental calibre. 
Among those from the countryside, many were dear to 
us because, in spite of a lack of intellectual culture, 
they possessed an innate culture of the heart, and an 
open eye and ear for the interests of the day. Others 
afforded us secret amusement by their unconscious in- 
genuousness. For instance, I remember a dignified 
Quaker matron, to whom my husband was explaining 
some pictures on the walls of our sitting-room. She 
paused before an engraving. "This is Raphael's 'For- 
narina,'" said Taylor. "Ah," she replied, "is she a 
friend of thine?" Another guest, who sometimes came 
early in the day, was a former schoolmate of my husband. 
He had a certain amount of knowledge and intelligence, 
but entirely lacked the social ease of manner. He once 
remained far into the evening, without knowing how to 
take leave. At last there was nothing left to do but to 
give him a lighted candle and consign him to a bed- 
room to spend the night, for which he was in no way 
prepared. 

* "American Men of Letters": "Bayard Taylor," by Albert H. 
Smythe, p. 130. 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 161 

While guests came and went, and the cultivation and 
improvement of our property consumed both time and 
thought, Bayard Taylor continued to write his "Picture 
of St. John." So industrious was he that toward the 
close of the poem he once wrote sixteen stanzas at one 
sitting, a feat that was possible only because his creation 
had long since assumed definite form in his brain. On 
September ist he was at last able to write to his friend 
Stedman : 

" I have finished my ' Picture of St. John! ' Soon after 
writing to you last, I found that the leading horse of my 
tandem was running away with me, so I cut loose from the 
prose animal in the thills, jumped upon Pegasus just as 
the wings were growing out of his shoulders and flanks, 
and off we went! " * 

Hereupon the poet let his finished work rest until 
winter, and then gave it another final and se /ere revision 
before sending it to the publishers. 

It was one of Bayard Taylor's idiosyncracies that after 
the completion of a poem, to which he had devoted his 
entire strength, he continued subject for some time 
afterward to the domination of his finished task. In 
order to release himself from the strain, he was obliged 
to have recourse to some utterly different trend of thought, 
so he now took refuge in the interrupted task of his novel, 
and was able to read the third finished chapter to me 
on September 3d. In the "Story of Kennett" he was 
treating a favourite theme of his imagination. Even 
before he wrote his first two novels, the plot of this one 
was floating through his mind, but he postponed its 

*"Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor," p. 448. 



x6a ON TWO CONTINENTS 

execution in order to school himself in " Hannah Thurs- 
ton" and "John Godfrey," for the intenser action and 
more imaginative form that " Kennett " required. In this 
work he raised a monument, as it were, to the neighbour- 
hood of his birth. Truth and fiction are woven into its 
tissue; descriptions of the idyllic scenery in the midst of 
which he was born, delineations of typical characters 
among the old Quaker families, and the traditions of a 
bold highwayman whom his father remembered, are inter- 
woven with the fortunes of the hero. 

In the beginning of October, when he had just finished 
the eleventh chapter, Taylor was regretfully obliged to 
interrupt his work again in order to travel in the West, 
where the public wanted to hear him lecture. During his 
absence of five weeks, I wrote to my mother, describing 
my lonely days: 

"The heavenly weather that we enjoy here in autumn 
is unknown to you across the water. Even in the early 
morning, when the freshness of the night dew is still 
perceptible, the air is mild and balmy, and during the 
day the sun is still powerful enough to make us seek the 
shade, and to force me to close the shutters of my room. 
And these autumnal sunsets! I love to watch the even- 
ing glory of the western sky from the large bay-window 
of the library. Like an immense fiery ball the orb of 
day sinks to the horizon and disappears. Our ancient 
chestnuts* are silhouetted almost black against the glow, 
which gradually turns to dark orange-red, and then fades 
to a pale, silvery green that lingers until the dark night 
falls. . . . The gardener is at work dividing the 
garden into several terraces facing the south. We have 

♦These two trees, distant about two hundred feet from the house, 
were our special pride. One of them measured twenty-seven feet, 
the other twenty-four feet in circumference. 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 163 

also been digging for an old well; my father-in-law 
remembered that there used to be one near an old house 
that stood in our present garden. The well is necessary 
for the latter, so the gardeners hunted for it, and after 
having found the foundations of the old house, they soon 
located it. The well is lined with masonry, and twelve 
feet have already been cleared out. As it is filled up 
with stones and rocks, they expect to find a nest of black- 
snakes * in the depths, and Lilian has strict orders to 
keep away. 

" . . . Gold is still very high, and living therefore 
remarkably expensive. We have to pay $90 a week 
this year for the furnished floor that we shall soon occupy 
in New York, and this is said to be cheap in comparison 
to other lodgings. We shall, however, have fine rooms 
and more space than last winter. My husband is par- 
ticularly pleased about a little room at the back, in which 
he can write and paint undisturbed. . . . 

" We notice the approach of winter in the mass meetings 
of the blackbirds among the topmost boughs of our 
tall walnut trees, that stand in a handsome group near 
the house. Toward the close of the day they consult 
about their migration with an immense amount of chat- 
tering and clamour, and soon after take wing and are gone. 
One day a whole flock of dainty blue jays paid us a 
visit. They fluttered about the American ivy on the 
veranda, with its profusion of dark blue berries; the 
following day the birds and the berries had both dis- 
appeared." 

Early in December, after my husband's return from the 
West, we moved to New York, where work was at once 
resumed on the novel, and the author devoted himself 
so assiduously to his task that the entire manuscript was 
finished by the end of January. With an easy conscience 

*This proved to be the case. 



164 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

he could now turn to his brushes and devote himself to 
social pleasures. Our circle continued to grow ever 
larger. After the war was over, a season of social gaiety, 
set in, such as we had not known for years. We all felt 
that now we could enjoy ourselves with a clear conscience. 
During this winter Edwin Booth, the great tragedian, 
appeared on the stage again for the first time since the 
dastardly deed of his infamous brother, the assassin of 
Lincoln, which had deeply grieved him. I wrote to my 
mother-in-law : " We saw Booth on his first reappearance. 
The audience received him splendidly. The clapping, 
cheering, and waving of handkerchiefs lasted several 
minutes, and seemed as if it would never end. He 
responded with quiet dignity, and played superbly." 

When spring came we were so satiated with gaieties 
that we were glad to bid farewell to the city. After the 
amusements of the winter we breathed refreshment in 
the pure air and the quietude of the country. Before we 
left New York, however, we had the satisfaction of know- 
ing that 6,000 copies of "Kennett," which had just 
appeared, had already been sold. 

From Gotha came the news that my father had received 
an appointment to go to Berlin as a member of the 
Academy. He informed us of his reason for declining 
this honour in a birthday letter that reached me a few 
weeks later. "If this had come earlier," he wrote, "I 
would certainly have accepted it, but now I am too old." 

At the same time I was filled with care and anxiety 
for my native land and my dear ones in the old home. 
The war between Prussia and Austria had begun, and the 
field of battle had suddenly come very near to my native 
town. The detailed accounts in my dear mother's 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 165 

letters kept me informed of the anxious and exciting 
events of those days. Then followed the great battle 
of Koniggratz and the treaty of peace, which dissipated 
the dark clouds that long had threatened Germany, and 
heralded the victorious beginnings of Bismarck's brilliant 
career. At this crisis I realised how thoroughly German 
I had remained after all. 

The meditative quiet of our life at "Cedarcroft" 
exerted its influence on my husband. " Faust" was taken 
up again, and the translation made rapid progress. First 
the difficulties of the "Dedication" fired his ambition. 
His earlier translation no longer satisfied him, and he 
remodelled it until he found nothing more to improve. 
Then he succeeded in translating some other difficult 
passages in the same metre and the same order of rhyme 
as the original, which filled him with courage for the 
remainder of his task. This concentration of his mind — 
he described his work as "heart-rending, yet intensely 
fascinating" — combined with the demands made upon 
him by the farm and garden, rendered it advisable after 
a few weeks that he should break away for a while from 
these cares. He was therefore glad to join some acquaint- 
ances in a trip to the Rocky Mountains. 

No railway then crossed the great continental plain, 
and the danger of an attack of hostile Indians upon the 
stage-coach made me regard this journey with anxiety. 
As my husband wrote often during his absence, I quote the 
principal facts from his letters : 

"Denver, Colorado, Monday, June 18, 1866. 
". . . Fortunately, you will know of my arrival to-day, 
as I have just telegraphed ($7), in order to set your mind at 
rest, if you should hear any alarming reports of Indians. 



166 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

". . . We travelled slowly all Wednesday night, on 
account of mud, but by 10 o' clock on Thursday were at 
Fort Ellsworth, away from civilization, in the Indian 
country. Up to this point there had been all sorts of 
rumors — that no Indians were to be seen on the route, 
which was a bad sign — that they had showed themselves 
within a few days, which was another bad sign — that they 
had just received presents from Gov't, which was bad — 
that they had not received any, which was bad again, 
etc., etc. . . . The weather was wonderful, the roads 
fine, and the scenery new, strange, and of great occasional 
beauty. On Thursday afternoon, we began to see herds 
of buffaloes and antelopes, wolves, rattle-snakes and 
skunks. We shot one buffalo on the way. The largest 
herd had four or five hundred animals. But what a won- 
derful air I breathed — and what flowers everywhere! 
Larkspurs, verbenas, pinks, anemones, poppies, crimson 
and yellow cactus, yuccas, lupins — there was no end to 
them. There were miles and miles like the richest garden 
beds. I send you a crimson anemone which I plucked 
on the way. . . . The meals were rare (two a day) 
and consisted of heavy dough biscuits and salt bacon. 
On Friday we passed through the region of chalk bluffs, 
which form towers, fortresses, old German castles, even 
entire cities of natural masonry, rising out of the broad 
valleys of grass and flowers. On Saturday morning we 
were only 200 miles from Denver. Here commenced 50 
miles of Desert, almost like Africa. We had antelope for 
breakfast, and travelled all day through cities of prairie 
dogs and owls, which live together in the same holes. We 
caught one prairie dog and killed one rattle-snake. Saw 
thousands of antelopes, and many wolves. In the after- 
noon I discovered Pike's Peak, a faint cone of snow rising 
above the horizon, 130 miles distant. The country 
became green again, and the flowers reappeared. We 
travelled very rapidly all Saturday night, but the road 
was rough and the jolts and bumps so terrible, that I 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 167 

couldn't sleep a wink. . . . Yesterday morning we 
found ourselves in a hilly country, with a few small groves 
of pine. At sunrise, from the heights we saw not only 
Pike's Peak, but 150 miles of the Rocky Mountains — a 
dazzling range of snowy peaks. From one point the view 
was superior to that of the Bernese Oberland. I was 
charmed, excited, inspired by the magnificent scenery. 
The air was that of California, but cooler. All day we 
rode over the hills, watching the great Alpine chain rise 
higher, taking meals of antelope steak, and drinking from 
the pure, cold streams. Just before sunset we drove into 
Denver — four days and six hours on the way. ... I 
have got Faust, the novel and all other literary plans out 
of my head. . . . The journey has already done me 
a great deal of good. . . . There will be seven of us, 
including Beard and Whittredge." 

"Empire, foot of the snowy range, 

"Wednesday, June 27, 1866. 

"I am here, 8,500 feet above the sea. It is 9 miles to 

the top of the pass, which is 1 1 ,000 feet high. Mr. B s, 

Beard, and two Bostonians are here, our horses are en- 
gaged, and provisions are being prepared for to-morrow, 
when we shall cross to Pacific waters. I shall not be 
within reach of mails again for six days, although our 
mountain trip through the Middle Park will only occupy 
five. The weather is heavenly — one cloudless day after 
another, cool moonlit nights, delicious mornings, and 
only a little heat in the afternoon. The fare, so far, is 
capital, and I am feeling remarkably well. I have again 
that rugged health which makes the mountain trip seem 
delightful." 

" Breckenridge, 
" Middle Park of the Rocky Mountains, 

"Monday, July 2, 1866. 

"I am so delighted at getting your letter, quite unex- 



i68 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

pectedly to-day, that I must write at once, to the neglect 
of my Tribune correspondence. . . . I'll give you 
first the merest sketch of the trip thus far. 

" We left Empire on Thursday last, climbing the moun- 
tains through the most wonderful scenery, and at i\ in 
the afternoon stood on the Berthoud Pass, more than 
1 1 ,000 feet above the sea. We were in a world of snow — 
almost as high as the Jungfrau. The field of snow melted 
both ways, into the Atlantic and the Pacific. We had to 
descend through immense snow-drifts, in which we sank 
to our waists, men and horses floundering and tumbling 
down the steep together. Then for twelve miles through 
fir-woods full of snow and mud, and furious, ice-cold 
streams. We slept under the trees, and entered the 
Middle Park next morning. This is unlike anything I 
ever saw — a region 80 miles in breadth, surrounded by 
high Alps — the plains were beds of flowers, the higher 
plateaus completely covered with sage and larkspurs, and 
the hills and mountain meadows precisely like those of 
the Thuringerwald. On Friday we rode 30 miles, mean- 
ing to stop at the Boiling Springs, but the Grand River 
was so high we could not cross. Neither could we take 
the usual trail, but were obliged to strike almost at ran- 
dom across the wilderness for this place, 75 miles distant. 
On Saturday we travelled about 30 miles, sometimes on 
the edge of precipices, with rivers hundreds of feet below, 
sometimes through swamps, great forests where our 
horses could barely squeeze themselves between the trees, 
or across icy streams which reached to the saddle, and 
nearly overturned our horses. At night we camped on the 
ground, kindled a huge fire of logs and cooked our meal. 
On Saturday night it rained, and we were tolerably damp 
when we awoke. We became covered with snow and 
mud, dried again, got wet again and then dry, dipped our- 
selves in the icy water to take the soreness out of our 
bones, had tremendous appetites and slept very well after 
the first night. On Saturday, also, we met Indians, and 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 169 

had a little talk with them in Spanish. Yesterday we 
had a very rough trip, and some of the grandest scenery 
I ever saw — 50 miles of snow peaks as high as Mont 
Blanc, rocks, forests, deep gorges, and valleys ten miles 
broad. I can't describe it. When we arose this morn- 
ing, the coffee and water were frozen solid. We tried to 
cross the Blue River, and had one pack-mule washed 

away, but hauled him out again. . . . Mr. B s went 

over head and ears and was washed down some distance. 
We pulled him and his horse out with ropes, and then kept 
on this side of the river, although we had to make our 
own path thro' dense forests, swamps and over rocks. 
This is the first inhabited place we have seen in 125 miles. 
I never knew what rough travel was, before. I felt as if 
broken to pieces, the first three days, but am now getting 
limber again. . . . Poor Beard is used up — he can't 
even sketch. . . . From this point we shall have a 
miners' camp every night, and a well-beaten trail by day. 
To-night we shall have beds. We met Ute Indians yes- 
terday, and to-day the Chief of the Middle Park, with a 
face painted scarlet. They were all very friendly. . . . 
" Your description of our strawberries makes my mouth 
water, after five days of pork, crackers and black coffee. 
But I feel that I am getting physical strength and refresh- 
ment all the time, and therefore don't lament. Your 
letter cheers and encourages me, in spite of the petites 
miseres. The work is going on better than I hoped. 
Your letter was better than a bushel of strawberries 
to-day. We have still ten days on horseback before we 
reach Denver. . . . The travel is so rough, and I 
have so much to do for my horse, bed and meals, that I 
have only made two or three very rude sketches, and 
rough notes for my letters." * 

A letter to his daughter, written about that time, ran 
thus: 

* Published first in the Tribune, and afterward in a small volume. 



i 7 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"My Dear Little Girl: 

"Here I am, in the wild country, two thousand miles 
from you and mamma. I write this letter so that you 
can read it yourself [in printed letters]. I have seen a 
great many wolves, and snakes, and deer, and little wild 
dogs, which live in holes in the ground. One day I saw 
two beautiful deer, chasing a big gray wolf. They had a 
little deer which was hid in the grass. The big wolf 
wanted to eat it, and so its father and mother chased the 
wolf away. I was very glad the wolf did not get the little 
deer. The wild dogs sat up on their hind legs and barked 
at us. We ran after one and caught it. It was not so 
big as a cat. There are brown owls which live in the 
same holes with the dogs. 

" In one place I saw a little girl, like you, living in a 
house dug out of the ground. She had three tame dogs, 
and she played with them, because there were no other 
children there. Then one day we killed a snake which 
had rattles on the end of his tail. There were no houses 
in the country, and no fences, and no trees, but only grass 
and flowers and wild animals. 

" I wish I could bring you one of the little wild dogs, 
but I am afraid I could not carry it. If you can read 
this letter, you must write one to me. So good-bye, and 
don't forget 

" Your loving father, 

"Bayard Taylor. 

"I send you the rattle from the snake's tail." 

In spite of the physical hardships that my husband 
had undergone — by way of recreation — he returned to us 
in good health and spirits. The depressing heat of the 
dog-days alone hindered him from at once resuming 
serious work. Instead, he bought a box of oil colours and 
began to make a series of attempts at oil-painting, which 
so took his fancy that for a while his room looked more 



THREE PROLIFIC YEARS 171 

like an artist's studio than like the study of a literary man. 
The library, with his large rectangular writing table in 
the centre, had two windows looking toward the south 
and a great three-windowed bay toward the west. 
He would not allow any of these to be obscured, even in 
the hottest weather, for he was a sun worshipper in so far 
as he always gave the rays of the life-giving orb free 
access to the room in which he happened to be. 

To this fervid sun, so enervating to us human beings, 
was due the wonderful profusion and the ripe lusciousness 
of our fruit. After the season of the various berries was 
past, our table was laden with the finest apples, the most 
juicy pears, the ruddiest of peaches, the sweetest of 
grapes; with golden cantaloups of the most aromatic 
flavour, and gigantic watermelons whose rosy interior 
exuded a delicious nectar. 

During those hot days we were also maturing our future 
plans. For some time past I had felt a longing for my 
home in the Old World, and my husband also expressed 
a desire for a complete rest in Europe. In the month of 
May I had written to my mother : 

" Life in America is so exciting and fatiguing that it is 
necessary and desirable to provide an interruption once 
in a while. I believe there is no such thing as absolute 
rest in this country. We seem to breathe excitement 
and stimulation with the very air, and the large house- 
hold that I have to superintend wears on my nerves; so 
that the leisure, the meditation to which we can give 
ourselves up when in the Old World, seem to me some- 
thing paradisiac." 

That my husband felt as I did, may be inferred from a 
German letter to my father toward the end of the year, 



1 72 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

in which he said: " I am just as impatient as Marie until 
we can have some quiet days in Germany. After three 
years of constant excitement and work, I need rest, and 
look forward with delight to a summer in the Thuringian 
Forest." 

In order to save money for our proposed journey, we 
remained at "Cedarcroft" for the winter; Taylor only 
was absent at intervals, and with the New Year we began 
to prepare our house and farm for a lengthy absence, for 
our plans extended beyond Germany. My husband and 
I shared an intense love for Italy, and we were filled with 
delight at the thought of seeing that beautiful country 
again and learning to know it better. It was therefore 
with the most agreeable anticipations that we embarked 
on a Lloyd steamer early in February for our voyage 
across the ocean. 



CHAPTER X 
In Europe 

When we landed at Southampton, we found snow- 
drops, yellow primroses, and daffodils in bloom upon the 
fresh green turf. We tarried a few days in this city, 
while my husband and I paid a visit to Tennyson and his 
wife at Farringford, on the Isle of Wight, after announcing 
ourselves and receiving a cordial invitation. The mild 
climate of the island favours a southern vegetation, so 
that we saw, for instance, hedges of laurustinus in full 
bloom. We arrived in the afternoon, and remained at 
the house of the poet until the following midday. Tenny- 
son's tall, imposing presence, distinguished features and 
long, dark locks, beside the delicate fairness of his blonde 
wife, left an indelible impression; nor will the hours that 
we spent in their company ever be forgotten. In the 
evening, when we sat together in the drawing-room, 
Tennyson read portions of "Guinevere" aloud to us in his 
deep, sonorous tones, and afterward decanted a bottle 
of old fiery sherry, that he declared worthy of Cleopatra, 
or Catherine II. 

Notable as was this beginning of our stay in England, 
the succeeding week in London contained a series of 
interesting occurrences and many agreeable hours. My 
husband's days were fully occupied by various literary 
lights, among whom we sorely missed our lamented 
Thackeray. I, too, made some valuable acquaintances 

173 



i74 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

on several occasions. One of these was a soiree given by 
Mrs. Procter, at which her venerable husband, " Barry 
Cornwall" — as fresh as ever intellectually, although his 
physical vigour had departed — received the guests sitting 
in his arm-chair. At the end of the week I had the great 
pleasure of meeting the then youngest celebrity of the 
English Parnassus — the poet Algernon Charles Swinburne. 
I was struck by his appearance the moment he entered 
our room; his slender form, the reddish hair that curled 
thickly over his head, his fine and mobile features, high 
forehead, bright brown eyes, and a thin moustache above 
the sensitive mouth — all these combined to give him the 
air of an unusual personality. He was very excitable, 
impulsive in speech and gesture. He teased our little 
daughter, romped with her and hid under the long folds 
of the tablecloth. He seemed to be pleased that we 
admired his "Atalanta in Calydon" and his latest drama 
" Chastelard, " and offered to read us the French chansons 
occurring in the latter. He asked for a lighted candle, 
although it was bright daylight; then he held the book 
in one hand close to the taper, and read, with the index 
finger of the other hand closing the left eye. This 
picture was so striking, that it impressed itself indelibly 
on my memory. 

We were finally obliged to take our departure from 
London in order to escape from the increasing number 
of dinner invitations and other social engagements. And 
besides, our time was limited. First we made a short 
stay in my old home, where the inclement Thuringian 
weather gave us a disagreeable aftertaste of winter. All 
the warmer and more hearty seemed the reception 
accorded us by parents, relatives, and friends. We were 



IN EUROPE 175 

dined by all in succession ; we were toasted in prose and 
verse; delicacies such as only the cuisine of Gotha can 
supply were set before us ; the finest brands of " Marco- 
brunner," " Liebfrauenmilch " ("the milk of Our Dear 
Lady"), and champagne were uncorked in our honour. 
We enjoyed the performances of the Court Theatre, 
which was open for the season from New Year to Easter — 
the period when the Court resides at Gotha. The Duke 
and Duchess again invited us to dinner. The table was 
set in the lovely winter garden of the little residential 
villa and we dined among palms and other exotic plants, 
in a small but all the more enjoyable company. Never- 
theless, after three weeks of this delectable life, we were 
longing to escape from the rugged North. Our thoughts 
turned to the Lake of Geneva, where we visited Taylor's 
elder sister. We found her living with her husband and 
little boy in a house surrounded by orchards and vine- 
yards, outside the city of Lausanne. From a broad 
terrace hedged with laurel and cypress in front of the low 
dwelling-house we could overlook the deep blue expanse 
of Lake Leman, on whose opposite shore rise the majestic 
peaks of the Savoyan Alps. During the several quiet 
weeks that we spent there, we learned to know the glorious 
lake under varying aspects — in sunlit beauty, in wind and 
storm, illumined by the rising and the setting sun, flecked 
with dark cloud shadows, ruffled by a light breeze, or when 

"Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among 
Leaps the live thunder!" 

Closed in on all sides by its beautiful shores, the lake 
impresses itself on the memory as one of the ideal spots 



1 76 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

of the earth, as a picture that not even the glorious Gulf 
of Naples can outshine. 

My husband's tireless hand and brain were fully 
occupied in this period of pleasant rest. When he laid 
aside his leisurely pen, he took up the brush. The ever- 
varying hues of mountain, lake, and shore invited him 
to paint a series of sketches, while his pen found abundant 
material for the " Random Letters " that he had promised 
to write for the Tribune, and for the more lengthy con- 
tributions published in the Atlantic. The latter he after- 
ward collected in book form, as "By-ways of Europe." 
His obligations in respect to these articles led him to make 
short trips, first to Appenzell, and then to the Balearic 
Islands. In the interval he went with me for a flying 
visit of a week to Paris to see the Exposition. There we 
met old friends and spent some pleasant days. A catch- 
word that we heard on the lips of everyone afforded us 
much amusement. Everywhere — in the street, in the 
cafes, in the theatre — acquaintances as well as strangers 
greeted one another with the words : "As-tu vu Lambert?" 
Even the Emperor was hailed with the same cry when he 
was seen in an open carriage in the streets of Paris. At 
last we received the explanation. An aged peasant by 
the name of Lambert and his old wife had come to Paris 
to see the sights, and when they were about to start 
home again, the old woman became separated from her 
husband in the crowded railway station. Frantically 
she rushed from one end of the building to the other, 
asking every person whom she met, "As-tu vu Lambert?" 
(Have you seen Lambert?) The common people at once 
took up the words and repeated them ad infinitum, 
thereby presenting all Paris with a catchword. 



IN EUROPE 177 

During my husband's four-weeks' trip for the collection 
of new material for his pen, I received a number of letters, 
from which I quote some extracts : 

" Perpignan, foot of the Pyrenees, May 30th. 
"It is now one o'clock, and I imagine that you are 
approaching Eisenach; while I, in this old, Moorish- 
looking town, am waiting for the diligence into Spain. 

" Yesterday I had but a glimpse of Lyons, which I had 
not seen since those doleful days of 1846,* but I found 
that I knew every house. Going down the Rhone it 
was the same thing : my memory was astonishingly correct. 
Before reaching Avignon, I struck the olive, the box-tree 
and the ilex — near Montpelier I saw an orange tree, and 
at Cette touched the shores of the Mediterranean. 

". . . There is still snow on the Pyrenees, but all 
around here the country is covered with olives and vines. 
The wine (Roussillon) is excellent; cherries are almost 
over, and figs are nearly ripe. The people seem to be 
talkative and friendly — all speak a little French, though 
the language is Provencal." 

"Palma, Majorca, Saturday eve, June 1st. 
"All day I have been wandering about this queer old 
city, enjoying the Moorish architecture, the palms, 
bananas, pepper-trees, and blossoming pomegranates 
and oleanders. Here the palms bear dates, which are 
sold in the market. Everything is as picturesque as it 
can well be — but there are no guides or helps of any kind, 
and I must find out my way, myself. The people seem 
to be very obliging and friendly, and are always willing 
to give me guidance when I can make them understand. 

* Taylor refers to his earlier visit to Lyons, when he and his travelling 
companion were anxiously waiting for money, as described in "Views 
Afoot." 



1 78 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

The Majorcan dialect is something between Catalonian 
and Provencal, and puzzles me not a little, because it 
sounds as if I knew it — and yet I don't. 

"This afternoon I walked into the country, turning 
off the road into fields of wheat and maize, between 
hedges of cactus and aloe, and among enormous olive 
and almond trees. The dust is two inches deep in the 
roads, and white as flour; but the heat is tempered by 
a delicious sea-breeze. I must have walked six or seven 
miles to-day, and with less fatigue than I anticipated. 
There are glimpses of old Moorish court-yards in every 
street — and any quantity of subjects to paint, if I could 
do it in public. Strangers are so rare that the people 
look at me sufficiently as it is. 

" I can get no guide to go with me, and am therefore 
obliged to make an excursion to Valdemosa (9 miles 
distant) and return to this place. Then I shall take the 
main road across the island to Alcudia, whence I shall 
sail on Thursday to Port Mahon in Minorca. I shall 
have two days in that island, and return thence to 
Barcelona." 

" Sunday, June 2 — evening. 

" I have just returned from Valdemosa, high in the 
mountains, and a lovelier place I never saw. A torn 
and rugged wilderness of rocks, which are crowned with 
hanging gardens of olive, orange and palm-trees — a 
tropical splendor of vegetation, framed by precipices 
and savage mountains. All Italy has nothing equal to 
it. How I wished for you! u This alone has repaid me 
for coming so far, for I know nothing similar to it any- 
where. The road is good, but there are no inns, or I 
would have staid all night. I made two sketches — not 
the best, but such as I could get. The people crowded 
about me so that it was nearly impossible to see or work. 
But it is a wonderful place for a painter. 

" I have made arrangements with a man to take me 
across the island in two days, in a two-horse carriage, 



IN EUROPE 179 

for $5, he to pay all his own expenses. This is quite 
cheap, and I don't think I could do better. Yesterday, 
the loss of Spanish (which, try as I might, would not 
come back) tormented me greatly: this morning, to my 
astonishment, I found that I could say all I wanted, 
without the least trouble. The forgotten words came 
all at once. 

"My impression of the people is not changed — they 
are a very honest and friendly race. But the scenery 
of Valdemosa will not out of my head: I still see those 
magnificent palms, shooting up from the brinks of preci- 
pices, and those huge orange-trees, perfectly golden 
with fruit, nestled among the gray rocks." 

"Barcelona, Monday, June 10. 

"I reached here this morning at 7, in the steamer from 
Minorca, and an hour afterwards had your letter of the 
3rd. I am glad you got along so well, and are so com- 
fortable in Gotha. . . . 

"On Thursday morning I embarked for Minorca, and 
landed at Port Mahon in the evening. This is a charming 
place. Built on a high rock, overlooking a splendid 
harbor, it is bright, clean, cheerful, full of pictures, and 
altogether delightful. I spent two days rambling about 
the country, which is one immense rock, covered with 
fields and gardens. It is quite different from Majorca, 
and the people pleased me even better. You can travel 
alone anywhere, day or night — robbery is unknown. The 
Am. Consul was very attentive and went about with me 
as guide. There was not a single foreign traveller on either 
island: they come very seldom. I should like to have 
spent two weeks in Minorca, had you been along. . . . 

"Foix, Tuesday, June 18th. 
"I reached here at noon to-day, after a wonderfully 
interesting, wild and fatiguing journey. I can only 
give you the outline of it now. Last Tuesday I slept at 



180 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the foot of Montserrat, spent Wednesday on that extraor- 
dinary mountain, and reached the town of Mauresa late 
at night. The heat was truly African. On Thursday, 
I went by a sort of country omnibus to Cardona, where 
there is an immense hill of pure salt. Here I engaged a 
horse and man for Urgel, in the Pyrenees, two days' 
journey — nothing but bridle-roads, often rocky ladders, 
nearly impassable. A frightfully rough country, made 
up of precipices, chasms, valleys of olive and vine, and 
huge mountains, the people primitive, ignorant and 
dirty, but kindly and honest. Reached Urgel Saturday, 
after two very hard days. As I drew nearer Andorra, 
I found it easier to get there — at Barcelona they told me 
it was hardly possible. Took a fresh horse and man, 
started at sunrise on Sunday, and reached the town of 
Andorra by noon. I stayed there all day, and the time 
went only too fast. It is one of the most beautiful 
mountain valleys in Europe. I was astonished, delighted 
— for I had not anticipated such wonderful scenery. 
Then I had left the heat behind me: the mountain air 
was heavenly, the water cold and sweet, the people 
kind and friendly — in short, everything was charming. 
All my fatigue left me : I should have been repaid for ten 
times as much. . . . 

"Yesterday I left the capital of the little republic, 
travelled through the whole length of it, scaled the crest 
of the Pyrenees (7,500 feet high) and came down to the 
first French village, or rather, collection of huts. There 
I spent last night most uncomfortably, got up at 4 this 
morning, and drove in a butcher's cart to Ax, where I 
caught the diligence for Foix. I have here had the first 
good meal in a week, and expect to sleep in a bed without 
10,000 fleas. It is a most picturesque place. 

"I shall not have time for Auvergne, but shall go to 
Grenoble, where I shall probably arrive on Thursday 
evening. It will take until Sunday night to see the 
Grande Chartreuse and Chateau Bayard. ... I 



IN EUROPE 181 

don't regret missing Auvergne so much, because I can 
make an article on the Bridle-roads of Catalonia. During 
the whole journey I felt perfectly safe, and was most 
kindly treated everywhere. Most of the Andorrans 
spoke some Spanish, so I could talk with them. I shall 
always be glad that I made this trip — it has given me a 
great deal of fresh and good material." 

For the months of July and August we had rented a 
villa in Friedrichroda jointly with our friends, Mr. and 
Mrs. James Lorimer Graham. The little town, situated 
snugly in a valley at the foot of the Thuringian Hills, 
had long been a favourite and much frequented summer 
resort. Its great attractions were the broad shady paths 
through beautiful forests of spruce and beech, the many 
resting-places, and the easy ascents of the surrounding 
summits. The owners of our villa, Dr. Keil and his 
wife (the latter a cousin of my mother), were friends 
of mine of long standing, and they had thoughtfully 
provided an American flag that greeted us from on 
high when we arrived at the cottage near the edge 
of the forest. We soon introduced our friends to the 
family circle in Gotha, and a frequent interchange of 
visits went on between the villa in Friedrichroda and 
the relatives in the town. Graham, whose active mind 
quickly assimilated everything that interested him, 
and his amiable wife who shared his tastes, soon made 
themselves beloved in my old home; my father alone, 
who laboured so assiduously for his science, was unable 
to comprehend how it was possible for an intelligent 
young man to live without engaging in some serious 
occupation. 

In August my husband was summoned to a dinner 



i8 2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

at Reinhardsbrunn. The Duchess had not joined her 
husband in their summer residence this year, so that 
gentlemen only were invited, and Taylor was surprised to 
find that all, including the Duke, wore frock coats and 
grey felt hats. One of the few guests was the author 
Gustav Freytag. 

He lived a portion of the year in Siebleben, a little 
village near Gotha, where he owned a modest country 
house. He had long been familiar to me by sight, al- 
though I was not personally acquainted with him. I had 
often seen him at Gotha in the ducal box of the theatre. 
He was not handsome; his features were irregular, his 
hair, pointed beard, and moustache were sandy, his 
figure of normal height, but his eyes were brilliant and 
his carriage distinguished, expressive of his noble char- 
acter. Such a man, at once intellectually gifted and 
courtly, was eminently fitted to be persona grata with 
Duke Ernest. In gratitude for the favours shown him 
by his "knightly Prince," Freytag has left a lasting 
tribute to the latter in the dedication of his novel, " Debit 
and Credit." 

One of the happiest events of that summer in Friedrich- 
roda was a picnic on the Heuberg, which my uncle, 
Staatsrath (Councillor of State) Leopold Braun, had 
arranged. Some of the party went in carriages by the 
broad highway, others of us on foot along a shady path 
through a cool dell — the children on donkey-back — till 
we all met on the summit of the mountain. Here we 
found our host and his three stalwart sons waiting to lead 
us to the trysting place. We threaded our way through 
the mazes of a beech wood by a tiny foot-path for half a 
mile or so, till we emerged on a grassy slope commanding 



IN EUROPE 183 

a wide view of the southern spurs of the Thuringian 
Forest. The rest of the party, some twenty in number, 
were already assembled in this idyllic spot, and we all 
rejoiced over the wonderfully beautiful day, the bright 
blue sky, and the clearness of the distant panorama. As 
if to add to the charms of the landscape, the rhythmic 
tinkle of bells from a herd of cows grazing in the distance 
was borne to our ears. My uncle proudly showed us his 
improvised wine cellar, in a hollow under the sod ; close 
by, a cask of beer was propped between two trees and 
cooling under a packing of ice. In an open space a fire 
built of branches of fir crackled merrily; when it was 
reduced to a bed of coals, the forester who was looking 
after this part of the programme produced a gridiron 
and proceeded to boil the far-famed bratwurste of Gotha, 
whose odour soon brought the vagrant company strolling 
up to the spot. The plethoric hampers were emptied of 
their store of good things, among which figured a juicy 
roast of venison whose like I have never tasted outside 
the confines of my native Duchy. After the repast had 
been consumed to the accompaniment of merry quip 
and jest, and had been washed down with copious draughts 
of John Barleycorn and noble Rhenish, the hours fled 
swiftly amid pleasant talk and song. German melodies 
and Tyrolese jodlers, with their carols, and plaintive 
cadences, alternated with Negro plantation songs until 
the shades of night descended, the fire was out, and the 
hampers re-packed. On our way home a herd of deer 
bounded away into the dark forest at the approach of 
our carriages, and as we drove along under the twinkling 
stars the drivers' post-horns woke the echoes with the 
Thuringian melodies: 



i8 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"Steh' ich in finstrer Mitternacht 
So einsam auf der stillen Wacht, 
So denk' ich an mein femes Lieb, 
Ob mir's auch treu und redlich blieb." * 
and: 

"Ach, wie war's moglich dann, 
Dass ich Dich lassen kann; 
Hab' Dich von Herzen lieb, 
Das glaube mir!"f 

So we bowled along down hill, and at a late hour were 
once more in our pleasant summer cottage. 

After a short month in the home of my parents, we set 
our faces toward the south, to our beautiful and beloved 
Italy. Our first stopping place was Venice, where we 
stayed for a month in quarters on the Riva de'i Schiavoni. 

I saw the peerless city again after a lapse of fourteen 
years, and found it much changed — and not to its advan- 
tage. It was still a wondrous creation, risen as if by 
enchantment from the bosom of the sea, but more than 
ever desolate in its downfall. The square of St. Mark's 
was no longer thronged with a motley crowd, few were 
the gondolas gliding to and fro upon the Canal Grande — 
that most glorious waterway — the Piazetta and the 
Rialto were deserted. The people were in a transition 
stage that is always hard to bear. When the hated 
Austrian yoke had been cast off, they were left to shift 
for themselves as free Italians, and were the veriest chil- 

*When midnight dark is o'er the land, 
And I on lonely sentry stand, 
I think where may my true-love be, 
And keeps she faith and troth with me. 

■("Ah, sweet, how can it be 
That I must part from thee, 
Whom I so fondly love, 
Believe me, dear! — L. B. T. K, 



IN EUROPE 185 

dren in politics. The common folk alone would not allow 
themselves to be disturbed in their dolce far niente. The 
broad expanse of the Riva before our windows was their 
playground. Every afternoon the booths of the Punch- 
and-Judy shows were set up to attract the crowd. 
Women, children, facchini, gondoliers, and soldiers 
composed the enthusiastic audiences at these popular 
performances. Pedlars of all sorts circulated freely, vo- 
ciferously offering for sale roasted chestnuts, baked slices 
of pumpkin, and the dried seeds of the same fruit, the 
latter being a dainty which is consumed in great quan- 
tities by the common people. For several days after our 
instalment in our rooms we were puzzled by one of these 
street venders, whose insistent refrain exactly counter- 
feited the English words, "Do you see me? do you see 
me?" in endless reiteration. We finally identified him 
as the pedlar of this particular tid-bit, and his cry as 
"Chi void seme?" (Who wants seeds?) Another sun- 
browned boy praised his baked pumpkins to the tune of 
"Che son belli, belli, belli!" and thus the lively throng 
amused itself far into the night. 

My husband concurred in the opinion, " that they only 
half see Venice who see it from the water," and guided 
us here and there through the narrow streets and alleys 
of the city, where we were often rewarded by the unex- 
pected sight of striking bits of Byzantine or Gothic archi- 
tecture, that filled us with delight. In addition, we 
feasted our eyes upon the rich treasures with which the 
old masters have rendered beautiful the churches, palaces, 
and galleries of Venice. I recalled much that I had seen 
before, other masterpieces were unknown to me, and a 
new light dawned upon me in regard to the greatness of 



1 86 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Tintoretto, which I had not been able to grasp in my 
younger years. Just as youth is not fit to cope with 
Goethe, so it had been with this great master of com- 
position; his genius was only now manifest to my eyes. 

Taylor gave himself up to still another pleasurable 
employment. He often took a gondola, and, threading 
his way through unfrequented canals, made water- 
colour sketches either from the boat or from some little 
deserted piazzetta — pictures that we brought home as 
precious mementos of our trip. Unfortunately these 
hours in the sunless waterways exposed him to the 
miasma that always lurks there, and we had hardly said 
farewell ,to Venice and were on our way to Florence, 
when the premonitory symptoms showed themselves of 
the illness that soon threatened his very life. With 
almost titanic strength he fought against his sickness 
until at last he was obliged to succumb to the fever. For 
he considered disease (in others as well as in himself) 
unnatural, and therefore disagreeable and repulsive. 

On our arrival in Florence I immediately looked for 
lodgings. After climbing innumerable stairs in a vain 
search for suitable quarters, I chanced to notice a marble 
tablet above a gate with an inscription stating that in this 
house, the Casa Guidi, Elizabeth Barrett Browning had 
lived and died! As my eye travelled downward, it fell 
upon a notice of furnished rooms to let on the second 
floor. Full of hope I went in, and to my surprise found 
the name of "Mrs. Baranowsky" on the door-plate. 
She was the same woman in whose house, farther up the 
Via Maggio, Ottilie von Goethe was living fourteen years 
ago, when my uncle Emil Braun recommended me to 
her care, and I had been able to secure quarters in the 



IN EUROPE 187 

house during my stay in Florence on my way to Rome. 
She was an Englishwoman of little education, but great 
kindness of heart; and as the widow of the sacristan of 
the Greek chapel in Florence, she was obliged to work 
hard to support herself and her daughter. She did not 
remember me, of course; but that mattered little. The 
important point was that she had three rooms vacant that 
just suited us, and into which we moved at once. When 
my husband's illness afterward reached its dangerous 
stage, I was able to secure the services of the eminent 
English physician, Dr. Wilson, who had just returned 
from a vacation, and who took the most assiduous care 
of my poor patient. Heaven knows how my husband 
would ever have recovered from his illness without this 
excellent physician and friend! But he did recover. 
The turning point of the disease was marked by a strange 
dream, which I will let him relate in his own words. On 
December 4th he wrote to Mrs. Stoddard: 

"I left Venice in a singular condition, composed of 
equal parts of over-excitement and apathy, but still 
suspected nothing. At Bologna, while looking at a 
church, I suddenly sank down on the steps of the altar, 
overcome by weakness. Chills and violent fever suc- 
ceeded, and I had just time to reach Florence and get 
into quarters in the Casa Guidi, when I was thrown on 
my back. For one whole month I have been lost to the 
outside world, have been nigh unto death, and have only 
recovered enough to write to you, by what seems a 
miracle. 

" I had a physician at the start who mistook my case, 
and would have killed me in a few days more, if he had 
not left for Rome. . . . Finally, in the nick of time, the 
English physician here, who had been absent, returned. 



188 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

. . . I pass over the days of prostration and nights 
of delirium — poor Marie, my only nurse, can tell about 
them. In a week more I began to rally, but so very slowly 
that I was discouraged: there seemed no prospect of 
health before January. All at once, I seemed to turn a 
corner, and from one day to another I shot into health 
and strength by seven-league leaps. It is wonderful, 
and astonishes everybody. Ten days ago I was in bed, 
unable to do anything for myself: now, I get up at the 
usual hour, eat voraciously, read, write, walk out in the 
streets, take my cigar after dinner, and only lack a little 
more strength to be perfectly my old self. . . . 

" I must tell you one curious feature of my illness. . . . 
At first, my brain was in a state of excitement which 
made my nights tortures. For instance, I was under a 
spell to work: the first night I was forced to copy all of 
Giotto's frescoes from the chapel at Padua; the second 
night, all the pictures in the Academy at Bologna; the 
third night, to draw vistas of every street in Florence, 
and so on, for about eight nights, till I was nearly insane 
from imagined fatigue. On the eighth or ninth night, no 
task was set me, but I saw a number of pale, shadowy 
Italian women. Then Mrs. Browning (who lived and 
died in this very Casa Guidi) rose up, a thin, faint spectre, 
and said to the women : ' He is to work no more : he must 
rest now: make everything smooth and soft for him.' 
Then the women made a sort of couch of planks, but their 
touch made it soft and refreshing, and I lay upon it and 
rested with an indescribable sense of peace, and the fever- 
tasks ceased from that night. Was it not a little strange? " 

This mystic vision was embodied by Bayard Taylor in 
his poem, "Casa Guidi Windows," which he afterward 
sent to Browning. 

Passing by Rome — my dearly beloved Rome — on the 
steel rails that seemed to me like a profanation, we 



IN EUROPE 189 

reached Naples, which neither of us had ever seen before, 
about January 1st. We established ourselves in some 
rooms on the Quai Santa Lucia, in a house whose 
windows looked out upon the beautiful bay. To the 
right, projecting into the blue waters, loomed the Castello 
dell' Uovo, whose gloomy battlements recall to the Ger- 
mans sombre memories of the fate of the Hohenstauffens.* 
Directly across the bay rose the massive summit of 
Vesuvius, whose eruptive forces were just then in activity. 
At night, after we had sought our beds and without 
moving from the pillow, we could see the bursts of fiery 
rain, the dull red glow of the smoke, and the stream of 
incandescent lava flowing down the mountain side. Like 
so many others, we also made the ascent of Vesuvius as 
far as the observatory, and looked upon the wild devasta- 
tion the mountain had wrought. But much more enjoy- 
able and richer in beautiful memories were our excursions 
from Posilippo to Cape Misenum, and along the Bay of 
Parthenopis to Herculaneum and Pompeii. He who 
cannot here drink deep of the imperishable fount of 
beauty was surely never a favourite of Pan and Apollo. 
We left Naples sooner than we had intended. Even 
there the east wind was raw, and caused my husband, 
who still needed to take care of himself, unpleasant sensa- 
tions in the lungs, so we migrated to Sorrento, on the shel- 
tered side of the bay. Its stone houses, built upon the 
sunny bluff, and embedded in the dark foliage of orange 
trees, command a panoramic view that has not its equal 
in the world, and at their feet the waters of the bay ripple 

* "After the disastrous battle of Beneventum, in which King Manfred 
lost his life (1 266), his wife and young daughter Beatrix were imprisoned 
in this fortress. The latter languished there for eighteen years, until she 
was liberated after the Sicilian Vespers, 1284." — Ferdinand Gregorovius. 



i go ON TWO CONTINENTS 

in wonderful blue and purple tones. In the Piano di 
Sorrento we found an out-of-the-way, quiet inn called 
the ''Cocumella," the "Melon," where we occupied sev- 
eral rooms that opened upon a large stone terrace built 
high above the sea. 

We were so well taken care of in this inn that we 
remained there at our ease till toward the middle of 
March. We explored the country round about, where 
Nature has scattered her fairest gifts with lavish hand ; 
our hours of rest were passed upon the terrace, overlooking 
a paradise of beauty, in quiet meditation that was most 
beneficial to my husband, inasmuch as he had not yet 
recovered his full measure of health. Our little daugh- 
ter, who had been without a playmate since we left 
Florence, enlivened the loneliness of her life in an original 
fashion. Leaning over the parapet of the terrace (which 
was constructed at the level of our second-story rooms) 
she struck up an acquaintance with the children of a 
neighbouring contadino, who played beneath the high 
wall, with the result that a trade of playthings was ar- 
ranged ; she let down her dolls at the end of a string, and 
received in exchange the toy pitchers and dishes of the 
peasant ragozzette below. When we climbed down through 
the rock passage from our bluff three hundred feet in 
height to the little beach, that was accessible only from 
the "Cocumella," she hunted for shells and bright- 
coloured pebbles washed by the waves upon the shingle. 
The latter afterward turned out to be bits of precious 
marbles and porphyry, the broken remnants of princely 
Roman villas that once had graced these shores, and 
which had been the playthings of the waves for upward 
of fifteen hundred years. Their varied tints pleased the 



IN EUROPE 191 

child's fancy, and she built with them a structure upon 
the terrace that roused my curiosity. " It is an altar to 
the Madonna," was her answer to my question. "A Chris- 
tian edifice at all events," thought I, for I remembered that 
no longer ago than the spring before, when she received 
her first lessons in ancient Greek history, she had built 
a similar altar to Jupiter on the shores of Lake Leman. 

From Sorrento we journeyed to Rome. But it was no 
longer my Rome, that I had left twelve years before. 
The temporal power of the Pope had fallen into the sere 
and yellow leaf. Italy had arisen south and north, and 
the effect of the change was unmistakable. In spite of the 
still existing power of the priesthood, foreign elements 
had crept in; a greater number of visitors from other 
countries was evident and the classical character of the 
city had disappeared more and more. To add to the 
discrepancy, our present lodging was not in the ancient 
Rome, but far removed from the Capitol and the Casa 
Tarpeia. Our rooms were in the foreign quarter near the 
Spanish Stairs, and shut in by houses on all sides. I 
visited the Casa Tarpeia but once, where Herr and Frau 
Henzen had occupied these many years the apartments 
in which I had formerly been at home. I showed my 
husband the glorious view that delights the eye from its 
loggia, and which elicited his admiration in the fullest 
measure. My acquaintances of earlier days had almost 
all departed. On the other hand, we were soon drawn 
against our wish into a vortex of social engagements by 
the presence in Rome of numerous Americans, so that 
Taylor, in jest, regretted that he could no longer use his 
convalescence as an excuse for avoiding the many invita- 
tions extended to us. Simultaneously the art life that 



i 9 2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

is so evident everywhere in Rome seemed to infect my 
husband, for one day he informed me that he had rented 
a studio next door to that of his friend, the painter Yewell, 
and that he intended to attempt the human figure. In a 
letter to a friend he thus expressed himself : 

"Here, where models are plentiful and color is part of 
the atmosphere, I have taken a little studio for two 
months, and paint three or four hours every day from the 
living figure. The studio is strictly private ; I tell nobody 
where it is, and hence many would like to know. My 
beginnings were in the style of the early Christian mosaics, 
but I have already advanced about five centuries since 
then, and am now painting in the style of the Venetian 
generation before Titian. I don't presume to hope that I 
could ever be mistaken for one of the contemporaries of 
the latter, but, with time, I might skip over the inter- 
vening centuries and emulate such moderns as . . . 
and . . ."* 

Crude as these studies were, the hours that he thus 
passed were a source of decided enjoyment to Taylor. 
Two water-colour sketches of female figures in the beauti- 
ful costume of Albano were quite successful, but as regards 
the nude his characterisation and ridicule of his own 
work in that letter were justified. 

Although my husband, like myself, felt inspired by 
and joined me in admiration of the superabundant treas- 
ures of Rome, yet he was far from falling under the spell 
of the enchantress. Sometimes it almost seemed to me 
as if he did not give the Eternal City her full due; but 
our little discussions on this point failed to convince him. 
And from his point of view he was correct. He wrote 
to his friend Stedman: 

* "Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor," page 491. 



IN EUROPE 193 

" I want to work, I am bursting with fresh plans, and 
this delightful atmosphere is like a narcotic which be- 
numbs one's executive faculties while stimulating the 
imagination. The past is too powerful here: it draws 
us constantly away from the work intended for us. A 
singular indifference to the movements of this present 
and grand world creeps over us, and we end by becoming 
idle, Epicurean dreamers. I am satisfied that Rome is 
no place for a poet, however it may be with artists." * 

At the end of May we returned to Florence, whence I 
accompanied my husband on the trip to Corsica and the 
little isle of Maddalena, opposite Caprera, which he 
described in " By-ways of Europe." Vexatious as was 
Garibaldi's refusal to receive Bayard Taylor, who came 
with letters of recommendation from our Minister, Mr. 
Marsh and Madame Mario — both friends of long standing 
—yet our enforced stay on the barren islet was of a char- 
acter so unique that we would not willingly have missed 
the experience. After we had passed several days of 
exile among the fisher folk and in the most primitive of 
inns, the steamer, returning from Sardinia, cast anchor 
and took us aboard. 

Taylor's two sponsors to Garibaldi were very much 
annoyed when they learned of the result of our trip. 
Some time after he received the following letter from 
Madame Mario, an Englishwoman by birth : 

" Lendinara, Provincia di Rovigo, Veneto, 

August 19th. 
"My dear Mr. Taylor: You will have wondered at my 
silence. First I have been ill, then I awaited some satis- 
factory explanation from G (of justification no 

chance, of course). 

* "Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor," page 491. 



i 94 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"I wrote to him — here is his reply: 

'" Dearest sister: With a dose of misanthropy that 
unfortunately grows with years and disenchantments, 
do you believe that a man can spend his life receiving 
visits every day, and the remainder of his time answering 
letters from people whom he does not know? Add to 
this that I was suffering damnably on the day of Mr. 
Taylor's arrival at the Maddalena. 

"'This will explain to you, dear sister, the reason why I 
did not receive the gentleman recommended by you and 
Mr. Marsh — two recommendations that could not be 
surpassed by anyone.' 

"To that I replied, 'If you had informed your friends 
of this new and laudable resolve you would have spared 
them considerable mortification and their friends con- 
siderable loss of time and fatigue.' 

" I find that he acted in a similar manner to a German 
professor who had come from Vienna to see him ! Aspro- 
monte lamed him, Mentana has broken his heart. Mea 
colpa is a bitter lesson. Had he listened to his true 
friends he might have entered Rome — have died there 
at least. I am grieved to my soul for him. . . . 

"Present our best regards to Mrs. Taylor, and 
" Believe me, 

"Very truly yours, 

"Jessie White Mario." 

And so the matter ended. 

We spent the summer, with some short interruptions, 
in my parents' home, where my sister from Russia and 
her five children had arrived some time before ourselves. 
My self-sacrificing mother, in spite of her continued deli- 
cate health, could not be prevailed upon to forego her 
hospitable inclinations, and harboured the many guests 
who celebrated a reunion in the old home during that 
summer. My father, on the contrary, abated nothing 



IN EUROPE 195 

of his incessant work, although in his short hours of rest 
he openly displayed his pleasure in the vivacity that chil- 
dren and grandchildren brought into his quiet daily life. 

During these summer months my husband had not 
failed to make further studies for the continuation of his 
translation of "Faust," and for the short commentary 
which he projected. The poem, "An Goethe," with 
which he dedicated his translation to the memory of the 
great master, was also conceived about this time. After 
he had written down the German poem he submitted it to 
Gustav Freytag for criticism, and the latter pronounced 
that it had been cast in a single mould of true German 
spirit and German feeling and needed no improvement. 

The "Dedication" was, however, not the only fruit 
that his poetic powers had brought forth since his re- 
covery from illness. In the winter, among other short 
poems, he had written two Corsican ballads, based on the 
traditions of the people. The first, "Orso's Vendetta," 
gave him much trouble. Twice he wrote it in different 
metre, and then, as the form did not satisfy him, cast 
it aside. The other ballad also, "Fidelio," was not 
included in his collected poems. A third poem of this 
half -convalescent period, "The Ruined Garden," found 
favour in his eyes only after he had completely rewritten 
it, and this he published under the title "Run Wild." 
But in June, when he returned to Gotha, visibly refreshed 
from an excursion to the Teutoburger Forest, the full 
strength of his creative faculty again manifested itself, 
and as " the result of a mood ' ' the poem " The Sunshine of 
the Gods " irradiated his imagination. After quickly com- 
mitting it to paper, the poet later revised it repeatedly, 
but he altered it very little, as he did not venture to 



196 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

touch it in a cooler mood — a procedure of which James T. 
Fields, his friend and publisher, approved. The latter 
declared the poem too good to need any after-filing. 

He wrote also another poem, bearing an intimate 
relation to the preceding one — "Notus Ignoto." He 
called it "one of the very darlings of my brain." It 
saw light on the last evening of the old year, and the 
first day of the new, 1868-69. The poet liked it better 
than its predecessor, but Fields disagreed with him, and 
it was probably owing to the stern criticism of this 
friend that Taylor, before placing it among his collected 
poems, rewrote it in another metre, and thus gave it the 
melodious swift-footed dithyrambic cadence in which 
the inward thought and the outward form are gracefully 
blended. It is not improbable that he conceived the 
idea of the poem while reading Goethe's "Seasons," 
for in later years I found the following stanzas marked 
in his volume of Goethe's poems, given him in 1868 by 
Berthold Auerbach: 

"Selbst erfinden ist schon; doch glucklich von Andern 

Gefundenes 
Frohlich erkannt und geschatzt, nennst Du das weniger 

dein? 

"Wer ist der glucklichste Mensch? Der fremdes Ver- 

dienst zu empfinden 
Weiss und am fremden Genuss sich wie am eignen zu 

freuen." * 

* To invent is grand ; but happy inventions of others 
Grasped and esteemed at their worth, are these not equally thine? 

Which is the happiest mortal? He that another man's merit 
Sees and another man's joy feels as though 'twere his own. 

L. B. T. K. 



IN EUROPE 197 

It seemed as if a new spirit was animating Bayard 
Taylor in those days. In later years, toward the end 
of his life, he said to me one day that after his illness in 
Florence he had felt as if a board had been suddenly 
removed from his brain, and that thenceforth thoughts 
had been vouchsafed to his mind as never before. This 
progress in his spiritual growth had, however, been going 
forward unheeded for several years past. It became 
apparent to him only upon his complete recovery from 
serious illness, when his long withheld strength returned 
to him. In the previous year Taylor had already touched 
upon this phase of his intellectual career in a letter to an 
old friend: 

"My studies now are changed from what they once 
were. I read first of all Goethe, then Montaigne, Burton, 
Mill, Buckle, Matthew Arnold, and the old English poets ; 
of the modern chiefly Wordsworth, Tennyson and Clough. 
Ruskin and Carlyle serve as entrees. I abhor everything 
spasmodic and sensational and aim at the purest, sim- 
plest, quietest style in whatever I write." * 

But the time had come when the fruit was ready for the 
harvest. 

* "Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor," page 459. 



CHAPTER XI 

The Translation of "Faust" 

When we settled down again in "Cedar croft" in the 
early part of September Taylor brought home some 
fifty oil and water-colour sketches, and a large number 
of books that he needed for his study of Goethe. He 
had besides the joyful prospect of being able to devote 
himself during the coming year to the work that lay 
nearest his heart. This was first and foremost the inter- 
rupted translation of Goethe's masterpiece — "Faust." 
Consequently we arranged to spend the winter in "Cedar- 
croft," and I took particular care that my husband's 
immediate surroundings should be as pleasing and com- 
fortable as possible. The library where he worked was a 
large, high-ceiled room papered with a dark crimson 
velvet wall paper. In a capacious fireplace, with a 
mantel of black, yellow-veined marble, bright brass 
andirons supported the great logs that were lighted on 
cool evenings or cold days, giving forth a grateful warmth. 
The walls were lined with book shelves of black walnut, 
in accordance with the heavy doors and window frames 
constructed of the same wood. Two high south windows 
and a three-sided bay, toward the west, let in an abun- 
dance of light. Near the centre of the room stood my 
husband's spacious black walnut, flat-topped writing 
desk, a present from his friend Lorimer Graham. Plaster 
casts of antique busts and figurines, as well as a few real 

198 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 199 

antiques, crowned the book shelves or rested on pro- 
jecting ledges. In one corner the Venus of Melos stood 
upon a pedestal, and opposite that was a copy of Trippel's 
bust of Goethe. Several generous armchairs and a 
yielding couch invited the inmates to rest or lounge at 
ease; books, magazines and photographs were placed on 
convenient tables. When the poet looked up from his 
work his eye rested upon plants and flowers blooming 
in the small conservatory connected with the library by 
a glass door ; did he direct his gaze westward at evening, 
he saw the golden setting sun sink in fiery splendour 
behind our "immemorial chestnuts." During the day 
the peacock was wont to sit upon the window ledge 
behind my husband's back, apparently absorbed in the 
contemplation of his master, but in reality enjoying the 
reflection of his own image in the mirror of the window 
pane. 

A short, unavoidable interruption of my husband's 
work occurred when we celebrated the golden wedding of 
his parents, in which not only all the branches of the 
large family, with the exception of the Swiss contingent, 
but also a number of friends from far and near took part. 
My husband composed a little masque for the occasion as a 
surprise for the aged bride and groom, the third successive 
couple in the family to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary. 
We entertained over two hundred guests on this occasion, 
and those who came from a distance stayed with us for a 
longer period. 

After this pause "Faust" took possession of my 
husband's mind more and more. The infinite pains 
with which he endeavoured to do justice to the work of 
the great master may be inferred from the fact, for in- 



2oo ON TWO CONTINENTS 

stance, that he made innumerable drafts of the "Song 
of the Spirits," 

" Vanish, ye . darkling 
Arches above him!" 

before he was satisfied with the English rendering. In 
his note he says it was " a head and heart breaking task." 
According to my memoranda he read the beginning of 
the "Walpurgis Night" to me on December 14th, and 
the remainder on Christmas day. The following day he 
translated the "Intermezzo," and on January 4th he was 
able to show me the translation of the whole first scene 
of the Second Part. Thenceforward he continued without 
interruption to the end. In the evening, when his task 
was done, he read to me what he had translated during 
the day, and I followed with the original before my eyes. 
When he was occupied toward the end of March with 
the third act, the rendering of which fascinated him 
extremely, he remarked in a letter to E. C. Stedman: 

" I am deep in the Helena, and the one-toothed Phorkyas 
looks over my shoulder as I write. My translation gets 
more literal, and yet more perfectly rythmical as I 
advance. I begin to see daylight glimmering through 
the further end of the tunnel." 

On May 13th I made a note: "Taylor has now reached 
the mystic portion of the Second Part, which gives him 
much trouble." By the middle of the month he read the 
final scene to me, and the great work was accomplished, 
exclusive of the last revision and the explanatory Notes. 

Although the great task now rested for a while, there 
was no respite for the man of the pen. While he trans- 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 201 

scribed the immortal poetry and high thoughts of the 
German poet into his native tongue, his mind was open to 
the whispers of his own Muse, and to her commands. I 
have already mentioned the fact that he wrote a poem, 
"Notus Ignoto," at the turn of the year, in the midst of 
his work on "Faust"; it was followed by two of the 
"Pennsylvania Ballads,"* the first of which, "The 
Quaker Widow," he had written years before. The 
ballad "Napoleon at Gotha"f also saw the light during 
January. Then, in the middle of summer, when the ener- 
vating heat of the dog days sapped the poet's strength 
for concentrated work, Taylor composed the beautiful 
"August Pastoral" in imaginative mood, where he sang: 

"Dead is the air, and still! the leaves of the locust 
and walnut 

Lazily hang from the boughs, inlaying their intri- 
cate outlines 

Rather on space than the sky, — on a tideless ex- 
pansion of slumber. 

Faintly afar in the depths of the duskily withering 
grasses 

Katydids chirp, and I hear the monotonous rattle 
of crickets. 

Dead is the air, and ah! the breath that was wont 
to refresh me 

Out of the volumes I love, the heartful, whispering 
pages, 

Dies on the type, and I see but wearisome characters 
only. 

Therefore be still, thou yearning voice from the 
garden in Jena, — 

*"The Pennsylvania Farmer" and "The Holly Tree." 

fThis incident actually occurred. The youth was my great -uncle, 
Wilhelm Xaver von Braun. 



202 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Still, thou answering voice from the park-side cot- 
tage in Weimar, — 

Still, sentimental echo from chambers of office in 
Dresden, — 

Ye, and the feebler and farther voices that sound in 
the pauses! 

Each and all to the shelves I return : for vain is your 
commerce 

Now, when the world and the brain are numb in 
the torpor of August." 

This idyll was followed later (not intentionally at 
first) by two others — "May" and "November." Two 
years afterward, when Taylor collected his poems of the 
last decade, he added a Prologue and an Epilogue and 
called the cycle "Home Pastorals." For the trilogy 
sang of his native heath, of its character and of the 
atmosphere that he had created there. In 1875, when 
the volume was to be published, the poet changed the 
close of the "November Pastoral" by embodying in 
the last stanza the subject idea of another poem. The 
latter has never been published. It reads thus: 

THE HAND 

The lingering winter in the woodland roars, 
And o'er its edge the yellow evening light 
Is chill and sad : come, feed the dying flame ! 
Pile splintered hickory on the embers ; draw 
The cork that prisons summer's liquid soul, 
And while, defying Nature's threat, we quaff 
Her pilfered sunshine, lay your hand in mine! 
Thus have I warmth that from without me sends 
A glow within, and wakes that life too dull, 
Too slack from weary days, to feed itself 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 203 

As once, from superfluities of youth. 

But from the touch of other hands I take 

A soft mysterious quickening of the blood, 

The thrill of delicate currents freshly loosed, 

That seem as if the body yet awake 

The fancy's play, and lift the lids of dreams. 

And yours is of the south ; your pulse on mine, 

Here, in the twilight, calls Pompeiian forms, 

The floating Hours, Medea's trance of wrath, 

And Chiron with the plectrum and the lyre ; 

Or sunburnt marbles, drums of Doric shafts, 

And broken triglyphs, such as heap the floor 

To Pallas sacred ; or the shimmering walls 

Of desert by the warm Arabian sea. 

All these I summon, while the frost without 

Stiffens the spongy soil, and April moans 

From some dim place of exile in the air. 

Still further let me dream ; beyond the shores 

We know, beyond that dark-blue, dimpled sea, 

Lie sands and palms, the Nile's wide wealth of corn, 

And dark-red pylons, granite roofs upheld 

By old Osirid columns : there the sun 

Sheds broader peace in all his aged beams, 

And hoary splendor on uncrumbled stone. 

Who breathes that air returns not as he went, 

Clipt in the scant horizon of his day, 

The slave of Time ; but, stretching back thro' all 

The thousand cycles of victorious growth 

To primal powers and passions, plants his life 

At the warm world-beat of the heart of Man, 

And makes his home in all humanity. 

Yet in this freedom we detach ourselves 

From keener interests, closer sympathies, 

That shape the narrow features of our time, — 

Save, grasping both with double arms of life, 

And setting one firm foot in either world, 

We stand, as stood the Masters. This your hope, 



2o4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Though voiceless, reaches me, whose office is 
To give it voice ; and now the swifter pulse 
In all my frame proclaims the soul awake, 
And lithe again the muscles of my thought. 
So, let the darkness fall ; the season holds 
No power to seal the fountains of our strength ; 
The nerves that tremble to the wilful air 
And make us vassals to the Moment, crouch 
At the calm bidding of the sovereign mind. 

Shortly before Bayard Taylor wrote the first of his 
idylls he made the assertion that American poets and 
artists did not need to draw their themes and motives 
from abroad, as there was a wealth of material ready for 
them at home in their own country. In the "Home 
Pastorals" he furnished a proof of this assertion by 
elevating every-day matters into the realm of poesy. 

As Taylor read " Hermann und Dorothea" anew in the 
summer of 1869, while preparing his Notes for "Faust," 
it is probable that the poem influenced him in the choice 
of the hexametre for the measure of the "Pastorals"; 
Gregorovius'* " Euphorion" and the "Amours de Voyage" 
of Cloughf had prepossessed him in its favour ; the smooth 
and melodious verses of the latter had shown him the 
capabilities of the English tongue in this respect. His 
friends of the literary guild did not share his taste for 
the classic metre. Emerson alone "wondered whether 
Clough had risen again and was pouring rich English 
hexametres " until he " guessed the singer without external 
hint of any kind, only by the wide travel." These idylls 
never caught the popular fancy, however — a fact that 

* Ferdinand Gregorovius, the German author. 

f Arthur Hugh Clough, the English poet, 1819-1861. 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 205 

mattered little to the author. He felt that since a new 
epoch of his creative faculty had dawned he had lost his 
former audience, and that it was necessary for him to 
win a different class of readers. He therefore did not 
suffer himself to doubt his ideals, but rather followed his 
higher aspiration more assiduously. 

I return to the spring of 1869. On Easter Sunday I 
wrote to my mother: "The birds have come back; blue- 
birds, robins, yellow piroles, brown thrushes, and scarlet 
finches are here in flocks, singing and warbling all day 
long. The woodpeckers are hammering in the old walnut 
trees, and to-day I heard the wild dove's plaintive note 
in our wood. The frogs, too, are piping merrily." It 
was a beautiful spring that set in earlier than usual, 
and covered the country with a garment of the freshest 
green. A laburnum that we had planted as a reminder of 
Germany bore its first blossoms, the ma'gnolias below the 
terrace were bedecked with snowy flowers, and the most 
luxuriant foliage gave a dense shade. In May we could 
sit upon the veranda till nine o'clock at night enjoying 
';he balmy moonlight, and in June we armed ourselves 
with fans, fleeing to the terrace after supper in search 
of cooling breezes. As soon as we had established our- 
selves upon the steps leading to the lower level, an old 
acquaintance of ours, an enormous toad who lived under 
the granite foundation-stone of the bay window, joined us. 
It was so tame that it came up close, and loved to hop 
upon my husband's foot, who scratched its back with a 
dry twig. It instinctively knew that he was partial to 
every living thing ; for in the same measure as with warm- 
hearted tolerance he honoured the individual belief of 
every man, whether Christian or not, so his fond sym- 



2 o6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

pathy for animals was great. The dogs, Tasso, Picket, 
Bonnino, and Puck, were our dear companions, and the 
horses, Bill, Guy, and Ben, were treated like comrades. 
The last of these served the family forty years before 
shuffling off his mortal coil, although during the last five 
he had outlived his usefulness. 

The summer as usual brought us many guests, among 
the number some unasked and undesirable — the reverse 
side of our hospitable house and happy family life. 
Friends like George Boker and the Stoddards were always 
welcome. The latter's little son Lorry was six years 
old, a pale, delicate child, a hothouse plant who filled 
me with pity when the time came for him to go back with 
his parents to the stifling heat of the city. So he stayed 
with us until his cheeks were ruddy with health. Although 
several years younger than my daughter, the two were 
playmates. His lively imagination was always inventing 
new games, while our tomboy was the leader in mischief, a 
tendency inherited from her father and grandfather. 
Knowing this propensity I was not very much surprised 
one day to find that the children had raided the hen- 
house, "scrambled" some eggs with sand, and had fed 
this "omelette" to the pigs. Accustomed to the freedom 
of American country life, my daughter naturally found it 
hard to submit to the rule of a German governess, whose 
sense of humour was almost nil; and the latter had a 
difficult task. When she called her charge after the recess 
both children were usually hidden in the branches of 
some tree, and when she finally succeeded in catching 
her truant scholar, and resuming the interrupted lessons. 
Lorry would exclaim crossly, " I wish governesses hadn't 
been born!" 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 207 

A longer time elapsed than Taylor had intended ere 
he was able to put the finishing touches to the "Faust" 
translation. July of the following year brought him his 
first days of leisure, which he devoted to the revision of 
his manuscript and to writing the critical Notes for the 
First Part. The interval had been consumed in un- 
remitting literary activity, accompanied by a growing 
worry which the increasing expense of our thriving and 
beautiful property thrust upon him. He had written his 
fourth and last novel, "Joseph and His Friend," and a 
course of lectures on the heroes of the later classical 
period of German literature, which he delivered in Ithaca. 
Cornell University had appointed him non-resident Pro- 
fessor of German, with the sole obligation of reading six 
lectures annually on the literature of Germany. This 
first course was followed later by others, which dealt 
with the earlier classical period, the literary productions 
of the Reformation, and those of the seventeenth century. 
After the author's death the whole series was published 
under the title "Studies in German Literature." 

Most reluctantly, and yielding to the stress of circum- 
stances, my husband finally decided to comply with the 
many requests of the so-called Lyceums all over the coun- 
try, again to deliver popular lectures during the course 
of the winter. His physical vigour was no longer that of 
his earlier years, but — although he may have realised it 
at times — he refused to admit this fact, and braved 
fatigue and hardship with the whole strength of his in- 
domitable will. In the spring he was attacked by a 
severe illness — whooping cough, contracted by infection 
while travelling — which stubbornly refused to subside. A 
complete change of air was recommended as a cure, and 



2o8 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

he determined upon a plan that he had been considering 
for some time past. He had received invitations from 
San Francisco to deliver his lectures in that city, and 
remembering his former success in 1859, he at last gave 
his consent, being moved by two considerations — his 
health and the probable remuneration. The sequel 
showed how much he had miscalculated in respect to 
the latter. 
The report from Des Moines was encouraging : 

" I feel my cough going, day by day, since I left home. 
I am scarcely fatigued this morning, and feel unusually 
well, and happy. There is no ' Joseph ' or other delayed 
work hanging over me, and I feel free to 'loaf and 
invite my soul. '" 

From Salt Lake City, May 21st, he wrote: 

"The cultivation of the Mormons is more like that of 
Europe than America: the fields, farms and villages are 
pictures of neatness and industry. This morning I have 
been walking around the city, which has one of the most 
magnificent situations in the world. It is almost equal 
to Granada or Damascus. The buildings, even, have a 
semi-Oriental character. There is something wonderful 
in finding this oasis of civilization in the heart of the 
wilderness. ... I send a flower from the summit 
of the Rocky Mountains, 8,200 feet above the sea." 

As my husband wrote daily, I received the following 
soon after: 

"I had a very interesting day yesterday. I met 
Cannon and Smith, two of the Apostles, who went with 
me to Brigham Young's house. The old Sultan was 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 209 

exceedingly courteous and agreeable. I talked about 
three-quarters of an hour with him and the others. He 
is a man of great power and shrewdness, and not without 
culture. His oldest son is a bright, wide-awake man, 
very agreeable in manners. 

"In the evening I met with the leaders of the new 
sect, who are opposed to Br. Young's rule. It was a 
secret conference: they told me their creed, their plans, 
the history of the movement, their views about polyg- 
amy, etc., and there were a great many points about 
which I agreed with them. They are advanced liberals 
in religion, earnest intelligent men, who are better than 
most of those in the orthodox churches. ... I have 
already acquired a new insight into the whole Mormon 
movement, and do not find much except the manifestation 
usual in sects which have been prosecuted. In fact, 
Mormonism is nothing but Orthodoxy carried a little 
further." 

On May 23d, while crossing the Great Basin Taylor 
sent me these few lines, written on the train, in the 
Humboldt Valley: 

"This is still Asia. Great dry plains, mountain ranges 
of the loveliest colors and snowy peaks in the distance. 
Weather heavenly, no dust, but fragrance of wild sage 
everywhere, cars the perfection of comfort. I send 
a flower I picked up this morning. Shall reach Sacra- 
mento by noon tomorrow." 

Arrived in San Francisco, Taylor found nothing to 
remind him of the town of 1859, except its incompar- 
able situation. "All is rebuilt, changed, and beauti- 
fied," he wrote on May 24th. My husband's letters 
were eight days en route. In the interval, however, I 
had received a telegram announcing his arrival in San 



2io ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Francisco : " Well and in the best of spirits." Then, dur- 
ing the night of the 29th, I had a most singular dream: 
I dreamt that my husband came home suddenly and told 
me that he had made a mistake, three of his lectures in 
San Francisco had been successful, but the others were a 
failure. He seemed depressed, and we deliberated in 
what way the loss could be made good. The dream was 
so vivid and made such an impression upon me that I 
told it at the breakfast table to Taylor's parents and 
sister, Mrs. Lamborn, who was visiting us. A few days 
later the chambermaid knocked at my door: "A tele- 
gram, ma'am." I opened the envelope and read: "Send 
no more letters ; I shall start homeward very soon. Bayard 
Taylor^" Thus I knew that my dream had come true. 

In due time I learned the details. On May 30th my 
husband wrote: 

" I confess to being regularly homesick this morning. 
You were in my thoughts all day, yesterday, and I half 
made up my mind, by night, to cut off some of my 
proposed lectures and hurry back again. . . . The 
lecture at Oakland, on Saturday night, was a dead 
failure. I did not make a cent." 

The following letter ran: 

"I should start home on Tuesday were it not that I 
want, at least, to earn enough to pay my expenses, and 
one more lecture in San Francisco will bring me some- 
thing. . . . The complete intellectual apathy of the 
Calif ornians is something marvellous. . . . The very 
people that seemed so bright and intelligent in 1859, 
are now equally demoralized, and no better than the rest." 
But nothing could daunt his courage: "Meantime," he 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 211 

wrote, " I am growing strong and in good spirits for 
work. . . . Perhaps I needed the present disappoint- 
ment and disillusion. The loss of my expected $3,000 
here is only a temporary inconvenience. ... I am 
really (believe me!) about as cheerful as if I had been 
successful. There is no use in whining over the in- 
evitable." 

His last letter was dated June 10th; then he hurried 
home as fast as steam could bear him. 

Early in July the old parents started upon a voyage 
across the ocean in the company of friends, to visit their 
elder daughter for the space of a year, and I was left 
alone with my husband and child for the first time since 
our house had been built. We were lonely the first few 
days, but this close family life had its charming aspects, 
and we might have given ourselves up to the unrestricted 
enjoyment of its peace and outward quiet had not our 
hearts been filled with anxiety by the news from Germany. 
The Franco-German War had suddenly broken out, and 
we followed the news with doubt and anxious expectancy. 
It was not easy for me to remain so far away from my 
fatherland at a time when the patriotism of every German 
heart was deeply moved. How gladly would I have 
stood in the midst of the enthusiasm that seized upon all 
parts of Germany when victory after victory was achieved 
by the united troops of the Northern and Southern 
armies. 

It was Saturday evening, September 3d, when the 
news reached us of the glorious victory at Sedan and 
Napoleon's capture. A neighbour in Kennett Square 
had been in Wilmington and read the despatch in an 
evening paper. We did not dare to trust the news 



2i2 ■ ON TWO CONTINENTS 

which might be a canard — it was too glorious to be true; 
but the possibility was ever present in our minds, and 
Taylor and I lamented all the next forenoon that this was 
Sunday when there was neither mail nor newspaper. 
Toward noon a visitor came from the village and corrobo- 
rated the report; so-and-so had read the despatch the 
night before — it emanated from the Legation in London. 
This made it more probable, yet our desire was for cer- 
tainty. After dinner I had the horse harnessed and drove 
into the village, where I was able to obtain a Sunday 
paper that someone had brought to Kennett from Phila- 
delphia, and there the victory was set down in black and 
white! I carried it home in triumph, and wrote to my 
mother ~ the same evening, "Taylor and I are so excited 
that we can hardly contain ourselves. It seems as if 
my mind has room but for one thought — the gigantic, 
glorious fight of our German people." Next morning 
I added: 

"What do you think my husband did last night? 
He wrote a German poem : ' Jubellied eines Amerikaners,'* 
of which I enclose a copy. The paper this morning con- 
tained a graphic description of the battle of last Thursday 
at Sedan. And the mail brought us a few hasty lines 
from our friend Whitelaw Reid, managing editor of 
the Tribune, that I must translate for you. He writes: 
'Great news — extra Tribunes, Sunday issue to-morrow, 
English and German, your Napoleon to be used, Schem t 
holding hard to restrain himself from lager beer enough 
to keep in working trim, the Bowery gently and peace- 
fully drunk, and the Tribune waving the North German 
flag.'" 

*" Paean of an American." 

t A German on the Tribune staff. 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 213 

In the meantime the final work on " Faust" progressed 
rapidly. The First Part was to appear late in the autumn, 
the Second in the following spring. The time for revision 
and writing the explanatory Notes was therefore short, 
and if my husband had not already gone over the ground 
thoroughly before writing his commentary, and drawn 
his own conclusions, he would not have been able to com- 
plete the immense task that still remained in the remark- 
ably brief period of eight months. In regard to the Notes 
he wrote to a friend that he had given in them the essence 
of fifty volumes of criticism, besides many things of his 
own. The critical memoranda to the Second Part of 
"Faust" entailed the greatest amount of study, as the 
latter presented many a riddle to solve, many a Gordian 
knot to untangle. Taylor said that they contained a 
great deal more of his own independent criticism. 

At last the hour of deliverance approached. On 
February 25th Bayard Taylor wrote the last word of the 
" Faust " manuscript. It was well that such was the case ; 
for he had several times come near to the point of ex- 
haustion. "The conclusion of the Second Part," he 
wrote to a friend, "so exhausted my strength, that now, 
ten days after finishing the work, I am only just begin- 
ning to recover my ordinary vitality." 

Side by side with the higher growth of the poet that 
showed forth more and more prominently, a subtle 
change took place gradually in regard to old habits and 
associations. Heretofore Taylor's inherited affection for 
his birthplace and his love of nature had influenced him in 
the choice of his home, but lately the consciousness had 
forced itself upon him that he was "not so dependent 
upon nature, as formerly"; and that it was a mistake 



2i 4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

to try to be at once farmer and author. He gradually 
realised that he lived in a sort of servitude to his property, 
and that his proper sphere was not the narrow circle of a 
country village, but the intellectual arena of a great 
city. The experiences of the past year were such as to 
ripen a decision in his mind that had lain dormant in his 
thoughts for some time past. The early summer of 1870 
was inaugurated with torrents of rain. The wet season 
spoiled the hay harvest, ruined the wheat, and rendered 
the fruit watery. There was a complete failure of farm 
and garden crops. In addition, at a time when my hus- 
band was most deeply engaged in the toilsome work of 
"Faust," the coming and going of visitors became an 
almost intolerable burden to him, and he longed to get 
away from the country into the city, where interruptions 
at all hours of the day were impossible. Under the sum 
of these discouragements even his sanguine tempera- 
ment gave way, and he became convinced that it would 
not do " to keep ' Cedarcroft' for a sentiment." In a long 
letter to his parents, dated November 10th, he wrote in 
part as follows: 

"I care much less about farming and gardening, and 
much more for my literary work, than I did four or five 
years ago. . . . My old attachment to the soil 
would lead me to remain; but my reason and common 
sense tell me I ought to make a complete change. I have 
been meditating this for four or five years past ; but have 
been postponing the decision, partly on Lilian's account, 
and partly because it was so hard to make." 

A few weeks later Taylor touched upon the same subject 
in a German letter to my father, in which he said : 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 215 

"It is my intention so to dispose of my affairs that I 
can be independent and without anxiety and go wherever 
I choose; I would then remain at least two years in 
Europe. I have new literary plans that necessitate a 
variety of studies, and if Heaven is gracious to me, I 
shall so arrange my time and business that I can carry 
them out." 

The plans to which he alluded had reference to nothing 
less than a combined biography of Goethe and Schiller. 
He had conceived the idea of this twin biography during 
the past years, while intimately studying the two poets and 
gaining a deep insight into their nature and spirit. They 
were complementary, he said, because, during an impor- 
tant period in the lives of both, they had been closely 
associated and had reacted one upon the other. In his 
later letters to friends in New York, published in his own 
biography, he dealt v/ith this idea more in detail. In 
the meantime my husband continued his studies with 
reference to the plan as often as his other literary work 
permitted. In his talks with me he gave utterance to 
many of the thoughts that passed through his mind at 
that time. Thus, for instance: "A poet alone can pene- 
trate the inmost life of a poet." Another time he spoke 
of the discord that arose between Goethe and his Weimar 
friends after his return from Italy, particularly as re- 
garded the circle of which Frau von Stein was the centre. 
" During Goethe's absence Schiller had come to Weimar," 
he explained; "the latter was feted and admired, partly 
to gratify petty jealousies that the former had given rise 
to, and to throw him into the shade. In Italy Goethe 
had lived in absolute freedom, only for himself and his 
art, and had attained to the highest development of his 



216 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

own individuality — he had progressed, while those whom 
he had left behind remained stationary." 

Goethe's "Naturliche Tochter"* he considered "a 
singularly neglected masterpiece," and "Pandora" a 
wonderfully beautiful poem. He was also of the opinion 
that Goethe's "love of allegorical representation in 
later years" was a "natural reaction against the strong 
realistic tendencies" that characterised his creative 
methods. "The informing imagination by which he 
elevated reality grew weaker, especially after so much 
scientific research, and allegory became an easy substi- 
tute for it." As regards "Goethe's often too minute, 
almost painful motivirung (as in Tasso)," Taylor believed 
that the latter "belongs to Art, but it was in him also in- 
creased by Science. He retained, however, the clearest 
vision of what was requisite, even after his prime power 
of achieving it had passed." 

The autumn of 1870 almost compensated us for the 
unpleasant summer. The fair, bright, warm days lasted 
far into December. Early in the month I plucked a rose 
that had blossomed out of doors, and my husband brought 
me a bunch of verbenas and gilliflowers. But our 
longing for congenial society led us into the city, where we 
spent three months, and Taylor was able to finish his 
great work with fewer interruptions. Toward the end 
of March, when the Second Part was published in Boston, 
we spent several days in that city as the guests of our 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Aldrich, dined with Longfellow 
in Cambridge and renewed a number of acquaintances 
in both cities. The publication of the Second Part was 
celebrated at the house of the publisher, James T. Fields 

*"The Natural Daughter." 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 217 

and his talented wife. Professor Agassiz and E. P. 
Whipple came in later and added their congratulations. 
The latter, with "his protuberant eyes" (as D. G. Mitchell 
said), talked with me about "Faust." "It is not only 
the best translation we have," he said, "it is also a proof 
of Taylor's high-minded patriotism. He has spent ten 
years in completing the task, while he might have been 
earning thousands of dollars with other work. Why, 
the translation is as long as the Trojan War!" 

Although 1,500 copies of the first volume of the hand- 
some and expensive edition were sold within a few days 
of publication, my husband did not venture to hope for 
an equal sale of the more abstruse Second Part. Never- 
theless, the latter did not fall much short of the above- 
mentioned figure. 

In the summer Taylor's parents returned from their 
European travel in a refreshed and stimulated frame of 
mind. Their homecoming again enlarged the family 
circle at "Cedarcroft," and brought us an increased influx 
of visitors, Meanwhile we felt more and more that our 
attachment for this beautiful property was on the wane 
— its disadvantages seemed to grow more prominent, its 
bright aspects lost their glamour. Perhaps in conse- 
quence of this fact, or was it because my future fate cast 
its shadow before? — I was sometimes seized with the pre- 
sentiment of the sword of Damocles hanging over our 
heads. And not I alone, my husband also had moments 
of clear prophetic vision. Years before he had told me 
that he should die first, and in the middle of the sixties 
he suddenly declared that he foresaw it would come to 
pass that he would be sent as Minister to Berlin, the only 
diplomatic post which he would care to accept. I was 



218 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

frightened at this supposition, without knowing why, and 
exclaimed: "Oh, I hope you are mistaken!" An in- 
comprehensible coincidence in the dream habits of my 
husband was the absurd fact that before every illness 
from which he suffered he dreamed of the King of Hol- 
land, whom he had never seen and in regard to whom he 
was absolutely indifferent. "And is it not strange," he 
said to me in his last illness, " that now, since I have actu- 
ally seen the King, I am sicker than ever before? " 

It was in September, a month after the dear old people- 
had come home. The melancholy note of the rain dove 
sounded from a distant grove, and soon after the first 
great drops fell upon the thirsty soil. The dripping of 
the long : expected rain made welcome music and content 
filled the spirits of all. In this mood my husband sat 
down at his desk and took up his pen; in a little while 
he showed me, chuckling inwardly, as was his wont when- 
ever anything struck him as particularly funny, several 
short comic poems, imitations of the style of Walt 
Whitman, Bret Harte, John Hay, and Joaquin Miller. 
These parodies, which he joined to a connected whole 
by an imaginary dialogue, were published in the Tribune 
under the caption "The Battle of the Bards." They 
received so much applause that my husband thereupon 
conceived the idea of making use of the jeu d'esprit of 
our Sunday evenings in a similar manner. Thus the little 
volume, "The Diversions of the Echo Club," was sug- 
gested, in which much half -concealed criticism and literary 
wisdom is interwoven with its absurd and witty imitations. 

Of an utterly different character was a lengthy poem 
in dramatic form that he composed in a short space of 
time during the following winter, in response to a sudden 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 219 

return of the creative impulse. About the middle of 
February, when my husband returned from a short 
lecturing tour in the West that had been accompanied by 
great physical hardship, he wished to pay a flying visit 
to Kennett on the way back to New York, and had 
arranged that I should meet him there. When my 
daughter and I stepped out of the railway car at the 
station we found Taylor waiting for us, and our two 
speedy horses, Guy and Lady Ellen, carried us quickly 
through mud and slush to " Cedarcrof t, " where the dogs 
were foremost in welcoming us with barking and canine 
marks of joy. The dear old parents came out into the por- 
tico with welcome in their happy faces. Becky, the house- 
keeper, had a delicious supper ready, consisting, among 
other dishes of Chester County dainties, of barbecued 
chicken ; and a bright fire burned cheerily on the hearth.* 
The two days of rural restfulness that he there enjoyed 
refreshed Taylor to such an extent that, after his return 
to the city, he at once retired into his little study and 
delivered his brain of "a vast and daring conception," 
as Mr. Stedman says. This poem, written in three days, 
m a state of intense exaltation, and entitled " The Masque t 
of the Gods," was so completely after my own heart that 
its creation rendered me extremely happy. 

This production of my husband's pen marked the barrier 
that henceforth separated him from his former reading 
public. There were few now who understood him. 

* From a letter to my mother. 

f Peacham, an older English author, says: Masque is a dramatic 
performance written in a tragic style, without attention to rules or 
possibilities. The old dramatists wrote their Masques for the closet 
or for the stage. Milton's Masque of "Comus" was composed for the 
former purpose, while Ben Jonson's Masques were acted. 



22o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Even among his colleagues several shook their heads 
and deplored Taylor's tendency to allow his poetry to 
be influenced by his metaphysical reflections. In reality 
metaphysics were as abhorrent to him as pure mathe- 
matics. Taylor characterised as psychological what his 
critics styled metaphysical. In "The Masque of the 
Gods" he represented the great evolution of the Divine 
Idea, as it manifests itself in the succeeding epochs of 
History, beginning with the adoration of elementary 
deities and progressing in the course of ages, until it 
culminates in the supplication of the Godhead: 

"We dare not name Thee, scarce dare pray to Thee." 

When Taylor several years later had finished his last 
drama, "Prince Deukalion," I recognised in the earlier 
poem the prologue to the more voluminous work. Al- 
though not intended as such, yet it stands in the same 
relation to the latter that an overture bears to a greater 
musical composition. The fundamental idea or motif 
of the earlier work is amplified in the later drama, and 
swells to a choral harmony, through which the chord of 
the original melody runs from the first tone to the last. 

Shortly before we left the city we made (according to 
my memoranda) the acquaintance of Bret Harte, who 
had lately come to the eastern states and was much 
feted. My husband brought him in one day and intro- 
duced him to me. "He makes an agreeable and, to 
speak with Seume,* a 'humane' impression upon me,'' 
I wrote in my diary; "he is handsome, with the easy 
manners of a man of the world; he likes to hear himself 

*I had just been reading Seume's "Spaziergang nach Syrakus." 
("A Walk to Syracuse.") 



THE TRANSLATION OF "FAUST" 221 

talk, is not tolerant of interruptions, and is very enter- 
taining. Before he left the room he looked at himself in 
the mirror." We invited him to dinner soon after; he 
accepted — and did not come. This was his usual habit, 
and numerous complaints were rife in consequence. 
After my husband's death, however, he wrote such a 
letter to me as to make me truly grateful to him. 

In the spring we spent two months in preparing for 
another sojourn in Europe. My husband collected and 
revised his shorter poems of the last decade, casting 
much aside, and getting them ready to be published later 
in a volume. He put our property in order, so that he 
could leave it and be free from pecuniary worries in regard 
to its management. The house was rented and a cottage 
in Kennett Square secured for the old people; the farm 
and garden were let to a tenant; and my husband, who 
had never had a talent for farming, whom aesthetic 
motives alone had influenced in his acquisition of land, 
felt himself suddenly relieved of a heavy burden, and was 
able to indite with a light heart the latter portion of his 
Epilogue to the " Home Pastorals " : 

"Now, if the tree I planted for mine must shadow 

another, 
If the uncounted tender memories, sown with the 

seasons, 
Filling the webs of ivy, the grove, the terrace of 

roses, 
Clothing the lawns with unwithering green, the 

orchard with blossoms, 
Singing a finer song to the exquisite motion of 

waters, 
Breathing profounder calm from the dark Dodonian 

oak-trees, 



222 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Now must be lost, till, haply, the hearts of others 

renew them — 
Yet we have had and enjoyed, we have and enjoy 

them forever." 



CHAPTER XII 
In the Old World Again 

More than three years had elapsed since I had last 
seen my parents — a separation long enough to have 
lent wings to my longing, and to cloud the joy of our re- 
union by enabling me to observe the signs of age that the 
advancing years had left upon my dear ones. These were 
much more pronounced in my father than in my mother. 
In spite of her delicate health the latter bore her sixty-one 
years well and looked comparatively young; her carriage 
was as erect as ever, for her strong will enabled her to 
overcome her increasing feebleness and to simulate the 
activity of former days. My father, on the contrary, 
who was many years her senior, appeared painfully 
changed to my eyes — his body emaciated, his complexion 
pallid, his eyesight dulled, and his mood unusually 
gentle and easily affected. My mother's letters had in 
some measure prepared me for these changes, but I was 
filled with deep sorrow to witness them with my own 
eyes. 

We arrived at Gotha in the early summer of 1872. 
From this date on the grandparents lived as in a bee- 
hive. In addition to the grandchild that we brought, 
there were six that came from Russia and two from 
Westphalia. These little people and their respective 
parents filled all the rooms of the great house without 
inconvenience to anyone. The Saal and my mother's 

223 



224 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

sitting-room in the second story were usually deserted, as 
our large family preferred to congregate in the " Garden- 
room," the summer dining-room that opened upon the 
vine-embowered veranda. Thence a few stone steps led 
down to the little flower garden with its wealth of rose 
trees, and into the berry patch behind the Observatory, 
the children's delight. 

It was a real pleasure for Taylor, after so much work 
and fatigue, to give himself up completely to the relaxa- 
tion of this family reunion, and to live only for the passing 
hour. After weeks of rest he started out again to make 
local studies for the biography, and took me with him. 
In an open carriage, and under a smiling sky, we drove 
toward the hills and valleys of my beloved Thuringian 
Forest, and finally came to Ilmenau, 

"Delightful vale! Thou ever-verdant grove." * 

How beautiful it was even now! And, as if an enchanter 
had willed, there was but one room vacant in the Lion 
Inn — the room in which Goethe had spent his last birth- 
day in i 83 i. 

Another surprise awaited us, for Berthold Auerbach 
suddenly entered the room, and thus agreeably we 
renewed our acquaintance with him. The conversation 
at once turned upon the master, and he told us of an old 
lady, who before her death had imitated for his benefit 
the way in which Goethe read his poetry. Then Auer- 
bach picked up our volume of Goethe's Poems, that we 
had brought with us, and began declaiming, in a deep 
solemn tone and measured accents: 

*Anmuthig Thai! Du immer gruner Hain! (See Goethe's poem, 
"Ilmenau.") 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 225 

"Feiger Gedanken 
Bangliches Schwanken, 
Weibisches Zagen, 
Aengstliches Klagen, 
Macht Dich nicht frei." 

Then, raising his voice, with greater emphasis: 

"Allen Gewalten 
Zum Trutz sich erhalten, 
Nimmer sich beugen, 
Kraftig sich zeigen, 
Rufet die Arme 
Der Gotter herbei." * 

It was almost as if Goethe were actually among us, 
especially as we were in his very room. 

On the following day we drove from Ilmenau through 
the romantic valley of the Schwarza and along the 
idyllic banks of the Saale to Volkstedt, where Schiller 
once spent some happy months, and where he wrote 
" Die Kiinstler." We left our carriage to proceed without 
us, and visited the room in which the poet lived. Then, 
while the sun was sinking in the west, we followed the 
same path he had so often trod, led by the magnet of his 

* Cowardly faltering, 
Hesitant paltering, 
Womanish quailing, 
Terrified wailing, 
Turns not misfortune, 
Nor gives you the odds. 

Proving the master 

In spite of disaster, 

Yielding him never, 

Combating ever, 

Thus man invoketh 

The arms of the gods. L. B. T. K. 



226 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

heart's desire to the neighbouring town of Rudolstadt * — 
the walk to which we owe his glorious poem, "Der 
Spaziergang. " After a short rest in this little out-of-the- 
way place, we ended our pilgrimage and returned to the 
paternal roof. 

The following month found us at Bormio, in the Val 
Tellina, where my husband took the baths celebrated from 
ancient times, and drank the water of Tarasp. In addition 
to this cure, he was benefited perhaps even more by the 
three weeks' rest in this glorious Alpine nook, surrounded 
by rocky pinnacles, dark evergreen forests, grassy slopes, 
snow-capped peaks and glaciers, whence the air came 
down to us pure and bracing. The baths were off the 
beaten path of travel, and in the lonely hotel, 4,500 feet 
above the level of the sea, we found only some Italians 
of the higher classes and a few cultured English and 
Germans, a company whose equal is not often met with. 
Among my own compatriots I will mention only the noted 
translater and student of Dante, Karl Witte, and the 
eldest son of the poet Riickert. Another interesting 
acquaintance was a Scotchman, Lieutenant-Colonel Ram- 
say, a well-educated man and an agreeable companion, 
whom we met again later in Florence. Our acquaintance 
began at the table d'hote where I sat beside him, and he 
made a few remarks in German. Being at a loss for a 
word, he said, " But very likely you speak English better 

than I do German ; what is the German expression for ? ' ' 

(The word has escaped my memory.) " My husband can 
tell you better than I," was my answer. Thus the latter 
was drawn into the conversation, and a mutual liking 

* He was courting his future wife, Charlotte von Lengefeld, whose 
home was in Rudolstadt. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 227 

sprang up between the two men. In his memoirs,* 
published in 1882, he speaks thus of Bayard Taylor: 

"I complimented him upon the excellent manner in 
which he spoke English, which was surprising for a for- 
eigner. 'But I am not a foreigner,' he said. 'Well, a 
German, then.' 'But I am not a German.' I tried 
various nationalities, but without success, when he said — 
'Is there no other nation but that small island of yours 
that talks English?' I said, 'How stupid I am! of course 
you are an American, and you are Bayard Taylor,' to 
which he confessed. The purity with which he spoke 
English, and the careful grammatical construction of his 
sentences, along with the total absence of any accent, 
led me at first to think that he was neither English nor 
American. He was a most charming companion. I 
never met a man with more versatile talent or greater 
powers of fascination. As a conversationalist, I should 
say he was almost unrivalled. His powers of memory 
were also prodigious. He used often to recite to us whole 
poems in the Norse language. With every dialect he 
seemed to be familiar, in German especially so." 

The weeks passed quickly and pleasantly in intercourse 
with such intellectual people, varied by short trips into 
the valleys adjacent to Bormio, until a fall of fresh snow 
upon the surrounding peaks warned us that cooler weather 
was approaching; and the number of guests at the hotel 
began to dwindle perceptibly. On September 2d we 
also departed, and made our way southward to the 
Italian Lakes and over the Simplon to Lausanne. It 
was a delightful trip of a week's duration. During all 

* "Rough Recollections of Military Service and Society," by Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Balcarres D. Wardlow Ramsay. Balcarres D. Wardlow 
was the surname of his grandfather, Earl Balcarres. Colonel Ramsay 
was a younger son. 



228 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

this time we did not hear the scream of a locomotive, we 
did not see a railway train. We enjoyed the true poetry 
of travel in an open carriage, feasting our eyes upon the 
deep blue sky and the beautiful scenery. Twice only we 
abandoned the carriage and embarked upon a steamer, 
to cross the azure expanse of the Lake of Como and the 
Lago Maggiore, while a rowboat took us from Porlezza, 
in its quiet bay hemmed in by dark hills, to the villa city 
of Lugano. On the trip across the Lago Maggiore to 
Pallanza we recognised a view, looking backward across 
the lake toward Baveno, as the original of one of Sanford 
R. Gifford's most beautiful landscapes; but the mystic 
veil of rain through which he looked at the scene and 
which he fixed upon his canvas had long been dissipated, 
and the last rays of the setting sun were gilding the green 
slopes above the little town. 

In Pallanza, opposite the twin enchanted isles, we 
met the stream of travellers who come down from the 
Alps and overrun Italy at this season of the year, and we, 
on our northward journey, reaped the advantage of this 
migration. The driver of a capacious six-horse carriage, 
who had just come over the Simplon and deposited his 
party, was anxious to return quickly for other passengers, 
and was willing to take us over the pass, a trip of two 
days, for a moderate sum rather than return entirely 
empty. Travellers of the present generation have no 
conception of the beauty of such a journey without 
steam over an Alpine pass, and thus miss one of the most 
glorious enjoyments upon God's earth. They can have 
no idea of the exhilaration that one feels amid the realm 
of Alpine summits, glaciers and snow-capped peaks, or 
of the views that delight the eye when some green pasture 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 229 

or peaceful meadow bottom spreads out amid the lonely 
grandeur of these crags and mountain fastnesses- — they 
know not the true joy and poesy of travel. 

We were favoured by perfect weather. Upon the 
summit of the pass the sun shone warm, and a slight 
breeze blew, so that it seemed like summer come again. 
We spent the night in the valley of the Rhone, and the 
next day were obliged to resort to steam again at Siere; 
dust and heat accompanied us to the shores of Lake 
Leman, the sight of which evoked Voltaire's enthusiastic 
" Mon lac est le premier!" 

When we returned to Gotha the guests at the Observa- 
tory had departed, and we were therefore doubly welcome. 
We took up our abode on the ground floor, where Taylor 
could work undisturbed, while my parents, at the ap- 
proach of autumn, retired to the rooms of the upper 
story. My father's health had not improved of late, 
and since his eyesight had suffered as well, it was a satis- 
faction to us to be able to amuse the dear old man during 
the long evenings by reading aloud and talking with him, 
and at the same time to relieve my mother in her arduous 
task. In the past winter my father had taught her to 
play chess with him, and they had played daily from 
five to seven o'clock. " It often fatigued me very much," 
said my valiant little mother, " but I was glad to give him 
this pleasure." And she accomplished even more. 
Just as she had formerly mastered the rudiments of 
Latin, in order to help my brothers with their lessons, so 
she learned in the course of time to read mathematical 
formulae to her almost blind husband, and under his 
supervision corrected the proof sheets of the scientific 
works that he published in his last years. 



230 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

During the course of this sojourn in Germany my 
husband received many marks of distinction. He had 
become endeared to my compatriots, particularly since 
he had rendered " Faust " comprehensible to English- 
speaking people in the very spirit of the great poet. In 
consequence of this feat, the Grand Duke of Weimar 
invited him one day in autumn to dinner in the Wartburg, 
where the ducal family were hunting the mountain cock.* 
On this occasion was established the entente cordiale, that 
continued between the grand ducal family of Weimar[and 
Taylor until the latter's death. The Grand Duke 
even then promised him every assistance in regard to his 
plan of ,the double biography, which filled my husband 
with encouragement. While he was in Germany he seized 
every opportunity that opened before him to collect 
material for this task, and he might have begun work at 
once if poetic conceptions had not filled his brain and 
left him no peace until he had rid himself of them. Thus, 
during this autumn at Gotha the "half dramatic, half 
idyllic" tale entitled "Lars" was written in rhymeless 
iambic verse. During October the poem, which had 
taken six years to ripen in his mind, flowed from his pen. 
"It returned upon my indolence this summer," he 
wrote to a friend, "and would take no denial." And 
later, in the midst of his work, he wrote: "It has been 
maturing in my head for so many years that all the inci- 
dents are complete in advance." The action of the poem, 
the scene of which is laid partly in the fields and fjords of 
Norway, partly in the idyllic neighbourhood of Hockessin 
(near Kennett) , reaches its climax in the conflict between 
the peaceful, forgiving spirit of the Quaker and the 

*Auerhahn {Tetrao urogallus). 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 231 

Berserker rage of the Norseman, in which the former is 
victorious. The author dedicated the rythmically beau- 
tiful, picturesque tale to his old friend, the Quaker poet 
John G. Whittier. 

Besides this product of his creative faculty, and a 
number of shorter lyric poems, another poetic work saw 
the light while he remained in Germany. Even while 
he was at work on " Lars," he had mentioned in a letter 
to his friend T. B. Aldrich that the latter had covered or 
overlaid another idea, which now stood clear before his 
mind. 

But fate intervened to prevent him, for the present, 
from realising this last-mentioned conception. Greeley's 
sudden death at the beginning of December was an event 
of far-reaching tragic importance to Bayard Taylor. 
The unexpected news was communicated to him in the 
midst of the good fellowship of a dinner with the family 
of a friend. One of the guests casually remarked that 
Greeley's death had been announced by cable that 
morning. No one present was aware how profound a 
shock this occurrence was to my husband. For Taylor 
not only lost in him an old and tried friend, proved in 
word and deed, but the future of the Tribune as well, the 
paper in which his entire capital was invested, was 
rendered most precarious by this catastrophe. As soon 
as we had risen from dinner he whispered to me: "We 
must go, I cannot stay here any longer!" 

Anxious weeks followed. The fatality that he was not 
at home and on the spot, but was doomed to wait many 
days for detailed news to reach him, depressed him 
during this period of uncertainty to a degree unusual with 
him, whose courage had never failed before. He had 



232 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

counted upon a continuance of the large profits that the 
paper had hitherto yielded. After curtailing the expenses 
of his property, this income was to enable him to devote 
himself in future without hindrance to his creative work, 
and especially to allow him to carry out his plans in regard 
to the biography of Goethe and Schiller. This hope now 
seemed suddenly shattered, the ground was slipping 
beneath his feet; for Greeley, the founder of the great 
newspaper, was also its preserver — the soul of the under- 
taking. Weeks passed before Taylor heard that the 
paper did not fall with its founder's death, but rather was 
re-established upon a sure foundation by its former 
assistant editor, Whitelaw Reid. A feature of this re- 
organisation was the erection of a new, very expensive 
building, entailing a burden of debt, that precluded the 
payment of any interest for ten years to come upon the 
capital invested by the shareholders. 

My husband was therefore obliged to look for remunera- 
tive work, and this was the only consideration that 
induced him to undertake a "History of Germany" for 
schools, in one volume. This task, including the neces- 
sary study of authorities, accompanied him upon his 
wanderings until its completion the following summer. 
For the rigorous climate of the plateau of Gotha drove 
us south again early in 1873. On the way we left our 
daughter at an excellent boarding school in Baden- 
Baden, and went to Florence, where we spent two months 
among old and new acquaintances. One evening in the 
Palazzo Orsini, where our old friends Mr. and Mrs. James 
Lorimer Graham had established themselves, we met the 
Sage of Concord and his daughter, who were on their 
way back from Egypt. After dinner the gentlemen 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 233 

were smoking in the library and we ladies sat in the 
drawing-room around a fire and talked. Suddenly the 
chairs upon which we sat began to rock, the entire room 
seemed to sway to and fro — "An earthquake!" we 
exclaimed, springing to our feet. We rushed into the 
library, where the gentlemen had also started from their 
seats, with the exception of one, who remained quietly 
in his place. It was Emerson, who preserved his equa- 
nimity as a true philosopher, and gave absolutely no 
outward sign of excitement. 

As every person with a claim to distinction possessed 
the entree of the Palazzo Orsini, "Ouida" * was one of 
the guests at an afternoon reception. Mrs. Graham told 
me: "She wore a white cashmere dress with an ex- 
traordinarily long train. After greeting me she went 
into the middle of the room and turned herself around a 
number of times, so that her train formed a sort of hassock, 
upon which she sat down." 

At the end of April we returned to Gotha. Thence 
Taylor repaired to Vienna in the interests of the Tribune, 
in order to report the International Exposition. During 
this separation of a month we kept up an almost daily 
correspondence, from which I quote the following ex- 
tracts : 

"Hotel Tauber. 

"Thursday evening, 
"April 24, 1873. 

"I reached here about four o'clock, tired enough of 
the journey. . . . There was no trouble at Boden- 
bach, the frontier ; no passport required. . . . Got a 
cup of coffee at Prague, and some soup at Briinn; but 
I was hungry, tired and dirty when I arrived. 

* Louise de la Ram£e, the well-known authoress. 



234 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"What! no soap? * No! But he didn't die of it; only- 
he couldn't get his hands quite clean before dinner, and 
afterwards he went out and bought a cake for 35 kreuzers." 

In my answer to this letter I was able to exculpate 
myself. I replied, "What! no soap? Yes! but though 
he did not die of it, he might have found it in his trunk, 
rosy and round, wrapped in a clean piece of paper, and 
he might have washed his hands clean, quite clean before 
dinner, and thereby saved 35 kreuzers!" 

Taylor, writing on April 25th, complained of an icy 
wind that blew down from the Alps, and then continued : 

"To-day Stillman made arrangements for the tele- 
graphing to England and we agreed on our plan for the 
Opening. We are certainly stronger than any other 
N. Y. paper now, and hope to beat them all. . . ." 

"Tuesday morning, April 29. 
"Yesterday Young, of the Herald, Professor Hart 
for the World, and E. V. Smalley of the Tribune arrived. 
In the evening we had the grand banquet given by the 
Press. There were about 200 persons present. Strauss 
was there with his band, the dinner was gorgeous, the 
atmosphere gemiithlich, but — there was no arrangement 
and no order, from first to last. After the President's 
speech, Edmund Yates, the English novelist, was an- 
nounced as an American, coolly got up and spoke for the 
American Press. This made us Americans furious, and 
I insisted on being heard. Finally, when Julius Roden- 
berg mentioned me very handsomely as an Erzamerikaner 
— a hint which Yates and the others understood, I spoke 
for fifteen minutes, constantly interrupted with cheers 

* Bayard Taylor prided himself upon the fact that he learned Foote's 
celebrated nonsense, which is too well known to need quotation, by 
heart in the space of seven minutes. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 235 

and bravos! and when I ceased the Viennese editors 
crowded around me, shaking hands, and thanking me for 
having said the best words spoken during the evening. 
It was a complete triumph. . . . The Germans 
were delighted with a word which they said I invented — 
Weltgemuthlichkeit. ' ' 

"Hotel Tauber, 
"Thursday evening, May 1. 

" This has been a busy and rather hard day for me ; but 
it is now happily over. ... I had a great deal of 
running to get the official speeches this morning, and to 
translate them before going to the Expos, then I had 
to wait nearly two hours, in the cold Rotunda, writing 
all the time, before the Imperial party came. The 
Feierlichkeiten were simple and sensible, but only imposing 
from the space, in which all details were swallowed up. 
About 12,000 people were on hand. 

"I got out and back to the Tribune Agency by 2 
o'clock, and went on writing until 3^, when I drove to 
the telegraph office with the completed MS. to give it 
into Stillman's hands. We got the first use of the 
telegraph and shall keep it until 4 columns (2 of which I 
wrote) are sent to Queenstown for tomorrow's steamer. 
The Herald, London News, etc. are all behind us. I feel 
sure we have beaten everybody. 

I must stop. It is nearly 6, when Stillman will return, 
and neither he nor I have had anything since a cup of 
coffee at 7 this morning." 

"Vienna, Saturday evening, 

"May 17, 1873. 

"My time is getting short, and I must hurry up with 

my remaining work. I have now begun with my ninth 

letter to the Trib. and have only one more to write. That 

will make ten letters and two translations which I have 



236 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

sent, besides doing all the public speaking for the United 
States. I think I have fairly accomplished all that could 
be expected of me. This morning the Neue Freie Presse 
contains a long original article on the Tribune, which / 
wrote for it, and which the Tribune now can, and probably 
will, use to its own glory. I shall leave moreover, with 
the knowledge that the hardest work is over, and I can 
easily be spared. . . . How I shall rejoice to get 
back to my quiet, steady work ! It seems to me it will be 
easier and pleasanter than ever, after this wear and tear." 

During the summer we lived partly with my parents 
and partly in the pleasant little mountain town of 
Friedrichroda, where we felt almost as much at home as in 
my native place. Side by side with the "History of 
Germany^" at which my husband worked diligently, the 
collection of material for the biography of Goethe and 
Schiller occupied him continuously; but for the present 
this was stored away in his wonderfully retentive memory. 

Fate had decreed that a great sorrow was to befall my 
aged parents during this summer. On June 26th my 
dearly beloved sister, Ida Repsold, died suddenly in 
Hamburg, whither she had followed her husband when 
a bride, in her thirtieth year. Even my father, who 
formerly preserved a stoical calm on similar occasions, 
lost his composure at this exceptionally heavy blow. 
For many days he was inconsolable in his grief, then, 
suddenly, his spirit seemed to be at peace. He was 
enigmatical when asked for an explanation of the change. 
"You would not believe me," he said, "if I should tell 
you how it came about." This from my father, who was 
surely not inclined to mysticism, filled us with wonder 
and left a deep impression. In August the business of 
the Commission for the Transit of Venus, of which my 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 237 

father was the president, called him to Hannover, and my 
mother accompanied him. During my parents' absence, 
while we were left behind to care for their house, my 
husband's imagination began to stir again after a long 
period of inaction, and to spur him on to renewed poetic 
expression. He began to write his drama, " The Prophet, ' ' 
and composed the poem "Summer Night," with the sub- 
title "Variations of Certain Melodies." The latter 
points to the lyrical suggestions he received from the 
impassioned strains of Beethoven's immortal setting of 
"Adelaida" and other verses of Matthison,* combined 
with echoes from Eichendorff 's f enchanting, dreamy 
"Sehnsucht," and his verses: 

* F. von Matthison was a poet of the elegiac-sentimental school of 
German poetry, which flourished about the end of the eighteenth 
century. The translation of his poem "Adelaida" is as follows: 

Lonely wanders thy friend in the vernal garden, 
Softly streams the magic light around him, 
Sifting thro' the swaying leaves and blossoms, 

Adelaida! 
In the mirrored lake, in snows eternal, 
In the golden clouds of Day departing, 
In the starry heaven shines thine image, 

Adelaida! 
Twilight zephyrs in tender foliage rustle, 
Lilies of the valley softly tinkle, 
Wavelets whisper and nightingales warble 

Adelaida! 
On my grave one day shall bloom, oh! wonder. 
From the ashes of my heart a flower 
On whose every purple leaf thou shinest, 

Adelaida! L. B. T. K. 

f A noted poet of the romantic school. He lived in the first half of 
the last century, and is famed principally for his songs and lyrics. 
The first stanza of "Sehnsucht" runs thus: 

In the glimmer of golden starlight 

I stood at the casement alone, 

And heard thro' the silent far night 

A postilion's bugle tone. 

My heart in my bosom was burning 

And longing o'erpowered me quite: 

"Ah! would that I could be journeying 

In the glorious summer night!" L. B. T. K. 



238 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"Sind's Nachtigallen 
Wieder was ruft, 
Lerchen die schallen 
Aus warmer Luft?" * 



The mingling of these melodies furnish the theme of 
Bayard Taylor's " Summer Night," which he clothed 
in the form of a Sonatina. 

In October Taylor repaired to Weimar for the purpose 
of making local studies for the biography, while I went 
to Leipzig for treatment by a celebrated specialist. As 
the two cities are not very far apart, my husband fre- 
quently visited me and in the intervals we exchanged 
letters, from which I quote: 

"Russischer Hof, Weimar, 
" Monday morning, Oct. 13, 1873. 

"There came a letter of 8 or 10 pages from Stedman. 
He assures me that a letter about Lars must have 
miscarried; says the poem is genuine and will last. 
Then he pours out his disgust at the sensational taste of 
the day, and says everything which I have been saying 
for two years past. Finally he writes — '/ strongly 
advise you to try a dramatic poem on a strictly American 
subject III ' f . . . Weimar is wonderfully improved, 
and I know I shall like the place more and more. It is 
now 10 o'clock and this must go to the post. I hope I 
shall hear from you this evening." 

* Nightingales, are they 
Calling there, 
Or larks high soaring 
In sunlit air? L. B. T. K. 

t Taylor had already resumed work upon "The Prophet," which 
treats of just such a theme. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 239 

" Weimar, 
"Monday night, 10 p. m. 
"Oct. 13, 1873. 
" I called on Scholl * this afternoon, and found him 
cheery and chatty. . . . The first thing S. did was to 
introduce me to Dr. Kohler, and then we three walked 
to Ober- Weimar and took coffee. . . . The day has 
been heavenly, and the park along the Ilm is enchanting. 
I have done three hours' walking, and something else, 
which I enclose. f You will see that the air of Weimar 
is favorable. The poem has been in my head for three 
months, but I could not find the proper measure for it. 
This morning, in bed, I dreamed it, and on waking re- 
membered part of the first verse and the character of the 
whole. I am curious to know what impression it makes 
on you. Now, I shall revise the 'Summer Night' a 
little, and send both to the Atlantic." % 

"Wednesday morning. 

"Oct. 15, 1873. 
"Yesterday, I revised the 'Summer Night,' and sent 
off both poems. ... I inclose the principal changes. 
The first passage follows the lines about the postillion's 
horn in the Andante, which (as you will see) it closes, and 
then begins a new Adagio, the end of which is the former 
end of the Andante. The third part (the former Adagio) 
is now called Appassionato. There are a few changes 
here and there, and also in the concluding Capriccioso, 
which now ends differently, as you will see. The original 
ending was a little too effeminate, even for a fancy; but 
now, by 'forgetting the part,' that reproach is taken 
away. I hope you will understand all this: I can't 
make it any clearer. 

* Adolph Scholl, at the head of the Grand Ducal Library. 

f'The Two Homes." 

JThe editor did not accepl "Summer Night," probably because in his 
opinion it was too impassioned. It was published later in the Galaxy. 



240 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

" As for the ' Two Homes ' the idea is as old as the hills — 
that people mutually crave each other's lot in life. But 
the way in which I tell it seems to me entirely original, 
and the measure quite satisfies my ear. 

"Getting off these poems and writing several letters 
occupied me a good part of yesterday; but I took a long 
walk towards evening. Graf Beust left a card for me, 
and I made the acquaintance of Director Ruland (for- 
merly Prince Albert's secretary), who is a very genial and 
agreeable man. . . . This morning is dull and cloudy, 
but not cold. I have my window open all day, without 
being too cold as I write. Over the trees of the Karls- 
platz I see the whole spire of Herder's church, and a 
little bit of the wood on the way to Tieffurt. Yesterday 
I found some by-streets with walled gardens, looking 
quite Italian. As I passed Goethe's Gartenhaus, and 
looked through the gate, I found myself wondering 
whether he had planted the bed of marigolds under the 
window." 

"Thursday morning. 

"Oct, 16, 1873. 
"In the afternoon I walked to Belvedere (f Stundc) 
with Dr. Kohler. . . . When I came back to the 
hotel, I found that Hofrath Marshall (English Vorleser 
for the Princesses) had called upon me. I shall try to 
see him to-day. Yesterday I saw Herr von Gleichen * 
at the table — an eccentric looking man, with nothing of 
either Schiller or Lotte in his face. I shall make his 
acquaintance by degrees. Director Ruland sits at the 
head of the table d'h6te, and the others have their 
stamm--places near him. . . . The young Goethes 
are in Jena just now. I've read Scholl's review of Lewes, 
which is very severe. S.'s explanation of the Frederike 
episode is exactly my own. 

*Schiller's grandson (the son of his daughter Emilie), a painter of 
landscapes. In a letter to his daughter Taylor said, "They are all 
grandsons here, and not poets." L. B. T. K. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 241 

" Well — after my running about yesterday, I wrote two 
pages of the ' Prophet ' in the evening, and mean to do a 
little every day. By the bye I had already changed the 
5th stanza of the 'Two Homes.' It now ends thus: 

"'And over the orchards, near at hand, 
The gable shone on the quiet land, 
And far away was the mountain ! ' 

"Every day I like Weimar more. From all I hear, 
the Hof is the reverse of exclusive, and the Adel are no 
staffer then anywhere else. . . . When shall I visit 
you? Saturday, Sunday or Monday?" 

Friday morning. 
"Oct. 17, 1873. 
"Another wonderful day. I am getting on rapidly. 
Yesterday I called on Geh: Hofrath Marshall, a gentle- 
man and scholar, with the soul of a poet. He thinks 
Emerson is nearer what Plato was than any other man in 
the world. In the evening I went to the theatre to see 
'Die letzte Hexe' a Comedy. It was capitally played. 
After, while drinking Vienna beer in the Gastzimmer, 
Herr von Gleichen came and sat opposite, in company 
with an intelligent, heavy-bearded man, who proved to 
be Baron v. Loen, a relative of Goethe on the Textor 
side, and Director of the Theatre here. I came gradually 
into conversation with both, and liked Gleichen more, 
the more I saw of him. . . . He was so simple in his 
manners, so kind and cordial, that I think we shall be 
friends. I told him I might call upon him for some as- 
sistance (not saying in what form). He gave me his 
hand at once, and said: 'I will do everything I can.' 
This morning I made the acquaintance of the Scotchman 
Hamilton, the only friend of the Goethes, and the only 
individual who has any influence with them. . . . 
He said to me, among other things: 'As you are not a 



242 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

German, I think Wolf would be willing to show you the 
Nachlass.' Wolf is expected every day, and as Hamilton 
seems to be a good-hearted fellow, and says he is glad I 
am undertaking the biography, I think I may reach the 
Goethes from the right side. 

"Moreover, I called on Gerard Rohlf yesterday. 
After this I wrote three more pages of the 'Prophet.' 
You see my time is pretty well filled up." 

"Saturday morning, Oct. 18, 1873. 
" . . . I can't tell you how much it encourages me 
to find every one of my leading impressions and conclu- 
sions in regard to Goethe, Schiller, and their intercourse, 
confirmed by everything I hear and by every competent 
person -I meet. ... I have nothing more to send 
you, for I shall bring the new scenes with me. I write 
something, whether much or little, every day, and find 
it the only way to prevent the Goethe interests from 
interrupting me. I want to go on with the main action 
while I am possessed with it. The scenes can afterwards 
be shifted or rewritten, if necessary, when I have the 
drama before me as a whole. It requires a different 
mode of work from such a poem as Lars, for instance, and 
I am agreeably surprised to find how readily my mind 
adapts itself to the new requirements put upon it." 

"Tuesday 4 J p. m. 
"Oct. 21, 1873. 
"What shall I tell you? That the day is raw and 
gusty, you know ; that I reached here punctually, you can 
easily imagine. My room looked rather bare and cold, 
coming from yours ; but I have a fire, and shall soon get 
used to it. There's a storm brewing, I think, and I must 
take a walk this evening because I may have no chance 
to-morrow. The circle at the end of the table took me 
back like an old member." 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 243 

"Thursday morning, Oct. 23, 1873. 
" I spent two hours with Marshall on Tuesday evening : 
we talked Goethe, Shakespeare and Coleridge and drank 
a bottle of Burgundy. Yesterday he paid me a long 
visit. He has been unwell for weeks, but says the talk 
and the wine together restored him more than all the 
medicine he has taken. In the afternoon Gleichen paid 
me a visit, and after the opera — Euryanthe, which I 
heard — he talked with me until near midnight. Also 
I took a long walk yesterday, and 'broke ground' on 
Act III." 

"Friday morning, Oct. 24, 1873. 

" I get on slowly with Act III. It is full of difficulties — 
yet, if I am lucky to-day and to-morrow, I shall have 
three scenes finished by Sunday. There are some things 
in it which require very careful management. . . . 

"This is all I have to report, to-day. It is so dark and 
windy outside that I expect to work well in my room; 
but the Park will probably draw me out before evening." 

"Saturday, Oct. 25, 1873. 

" I found Preller in his atelier yesterday, a short stumpy 
man of 70. He was very polite and kind: to-night I am 
to call at his house. I plagued my head a great deal 
with 'The Prophet' yesterday, but the knot came loose 
while I walked in the Park, and now I have but one more 
rough place in this Act. . . . 

"Gleichen, Schennis and Loen are excellent company, 
but I still like the first best. He has something of 
Schiller's temperament — both the strong and weak 
points, and that honest goodness of heart which all who 
stood near to Schiller found in him." 

"Monday morning, Oct. 27, 1873. 
"I had a quiet but pleasant day in Gotha. . . . 



244 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Your father . . . went out with Fritz to walk, 
but was driven back by the rain. He has given up 
some technical business connected with the Venus, 
which is a good thing. . . . I've unravelled all the 
tangles in my 3rd Act, and fully expect to finish it this 
week. The 4th Act will give me some bother, but the 
5th not a great deal." 

"Tuesday morning, 
"Oct. 28, 1873. 

"Yesterday . . . in the evening I went to Preller's 
house, and was received most cordially by him and his 
wife. In the course of an hour such an understanding 
was established, that he offered to tell me everything he 
knew, brought out his drawing of the dead Goethe . . . 
and voluntarily promised to trace me a copy! He has a 
cast of Trippel's bust of G. and when I told him that I 
had it, with the Venus of Milo in the other corner, as 
man and woman, he got up without a word, took hold of 
my arm and led me to the Venus of Milo in the opposite 
corner of his room! He is a vigorous original character, 
talks a very broad Eisenach dialect, brings out now and 
then a strong word that has the force of an oath, yet is 
brimful of sense and intelligence. 

" . . . One or two of the younger men here seemed 
to be doubtful whether I would get anything out of 
Preller : this is my first experience ! I like him hugely. 

"Act III. moves forwards. I am in the 5th scene — 
there will be 7 or 8, I'm not certain which. I puzzle 
myself, wondering whether you'll like this or that pas- 
sage, but am never quite sure." 

"Thursday, Weimar. Oct. 30, '73. 

" I am on the 7th and last scene, which will be finished 
to-morrow, so I can give you the whole act when I come. 

"To-night I go to Preller again. Wolf. v. Goethe has 
returned, as I learned yesterday, and I must try to make 
his acquaintance. . . . 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 245 

"To-day is very dull, but less raw and cold than yester- 
day. I am in good condition, not the least (apparently) 
angegriffen by the tragedy; but then I have gone over 
the passionate scenes many times in advance. Adios, 
mi buen amada!" 

" Friday morning, Oct. 31, 1873. 

"I will, after all, write two lines to repeat that I am 
coming to-morrow evening. Act III. is finished, and I 
am tolerably satisfied with it. I had another hour and a 
half with Preller last night, hearing many interesting 
little particulars. . . . und so auf M or gen!" 

"Monday, 3^ Nov. 3. 
"I had a lovely trip — such soft, pure sunshine, the 
willow, alder and oak trees green, and the meadows so 
fresh! It is a heavenly day. Reached the table before 
most of the others. Hamilton arrived 3 hours before me. 
He has just gone to call on Wolf. v. Goethe, and will go 
with me to Maltzahn, to-morrow (M. is the editor of 
Lessing's works). . . . Hamilton saw Bancroft and 
H. Grimm in Berlin. That's all the news. As for me, I 
feel fresh and fine: am going out now for a walk, before 
sunset, the sky and air are so tempting. To-night I hope 
to plant the first spade in Act IV." 

" Wednesday morning, 

"Nov. 5, 1873. 

"My time is more filled up than before, but I keep 
enough for work, besides, I shall finish the 1st scene this 
morning, and it is not an easy one. 

"Yesterday I found Frl. Frommann at home — an 
elegant, refined, intelligent and most agreeable little old 
lady of 73. I talked with her for more than an hour, and 
heard many particulars. She promised to show me 
Minna Herzlieb's portrait, when I come again. Is much 
disappointed with Lewes. To me she is really an acquisi- 
tion. Then I went to the Goethe house and asked for 



246 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Herr v. Goethe. He was out ... I wrote nearly- 
all the afternoon, and in the evening went again to 
Preller, whom I found surrounded, as usual, by artistic 
girls. He told me many unimportant anecdotes of 
Goethe, but all illustrative. I had to stay for supper, 
which was very simple, but cheerful. One of the artistic 
ladies waited on the table. 

" Hamilton gave me three anecdotes of Goethe yester- 
day, which he had from Ottilie. Frl. Frommann said 
that Lewes had evidently taken many things from com- 
mon, vulgar sources in Weimar. . . . You see I'm 
getting along very well. ' The Prophet ' is a great deal of 
society for me at hours when I would otherwise be 
lonely; and my staying here is a great advantage to him." 

"Friday morning, 
"Nov. 7, 1873. 
". . . About 5, I went to Goethe's, and was ad- 
mitted at once. Going up the famous staircase (nothing 
like as stately as I expected to find it) I was taken to the 
very top of the house, under the roof. The old woman 
ushered me into a very little sitting-room, where were 
two oldish ladies. I bowed and they did; then G. ap- 
peared at a side door and took me into a larger sitting- 
room beyond. I was amazed to find him so handsome 
and looking so much like a weaker and more fantastic 
Goethe. He remembered you, and the fact that you 
knew and liked his mother evidently made him more 
cordial to me. But Frl. Frommann, I found, had already 
been saying a word for me. He talked for an hour, hardly 
stopping to take breath — about his relation to Goethe, 
the Nachlass, his and his brother's position, etc. I let 
him state his views, without contradiction or comment, 
which he seemed to like; for he said at last: 'It's a 
satisfaction to me, to hear my grandfather spoken of, 
without being forced to keep silence or to oppose what 
I hear.' He is full of singular intellectual twists, and it 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 247 

is wonderful how they are nearly all perversions of 
Goethe's qualities. I was brought very near the latter, 
through him. 

"Well — all went off favorably. He invited me to 
come again in the day-time, and see Stieler's portrait, 
Hackert's and Tischbein's pictures, etc. 

"I shall finish scene II. to-day. Farewell for 24 
hours!" 

"Saturday morning, Nov. 8, 1873. 
" . . . Yesterday Gleichen introduced me to Herr 

v. D , who . . . was in Egypt and the Orient 

with the young G. D. They were both delighted with 
Boker, but very much astonished to learn that he was 
a poet! . . . Scholl, Marshall and the others who 
know Wolf. Goethe, cannot conceal from me their sincere 
relief that we have met and established a footing of 
cordial intercourse. I now see that they were all un- 
certain, though they did not say so. I must call on 
Frommann again this afternoon: . . . Then I'll 
go to Pirch,* having found where he lives, and that he's 
Excellenz, and really Prussian Minister — a sort of family- 
polite position, of no consequence since the Empire is 
begun. ... I expect to be half-way through with 
Act IV. by to-night, and in time to see Wallenstein's 
Lager and the Piccolomini." 

"Sunday morning, Nov. 9, 1873. 
"Yesterday I saw Frl. Frommann. She said Wolf. 
Goethe is rather astonished at himself, yet very much 
satisfied, that he was so frank and communicative towards 
me! She has known him all his life, yet she says: 'I 
never know beforehand how I shall find him, and how he 
will receive what I say.' 

*Baron von Pirch, who was attached to the Prussian Legation at 
the time Taylor was in charge of the American Legation at St. Peters- 
burg. 



248 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"I afterwards went to Pirch's, and was received with 
great cordiality. She . . . remembered nearly all 
our intercourse — how you and Mrs. Locock were presented 
at the same time, and her little girl came to play with 
Lilian, etc. . . . They greet you and hope to see 
you here. 

"Wallenstein's Lager was one of the most perfect 
representations I ever saw on any stage. How I enjoyed 
it! The theatre was so crammed that I barely succeeded 
in getting the last seat. . . . 

"I finished Scene IV. yesterday. There will be three 
more in the Act, but they are selected and arranged in my 
mind, so I shall have the Act done by Thursday, at the 
latest. Scene IV. (what it should be) puzzled me until 
the last moment, but I'm quite satisfied with what it is." 

"Thursday, Nov. 13, 1873. 

". . . To-day I go to Wolf. Goethe, who expects 
me, at 12 ; in the afternoon, to Pirch's. I hear of opinions 
in circulation, which undoubtedly help me in every way. 
For instance, Scholl told Marshall that his showing me 
the MSS. in the library convinced him at once that I 
knew the material and had the truest instinct for what 
was valuable and what was not. ... I am half 
through with the 7th and last scene, which I shall finish 
to-day. ... I feel quite sure I can write Act V. 
next week, as all the threads of the plot are now drawn 
together. Then I'll go to Leipzig for a week. . . . 
But I will come this Saturday also for I must read you 
Act IV. before I write Act V." 

"Weimar, Nov. 13. 

"I finished Act IV. just before 12, and then went to 
Goethe, with whom I stayed an hour and a half. He 
was thoroughly gemiithlich and agreeable, showed me 
many things, and offered to show me all the rooms, 
collections, etc., but begged me to wait until next spring 
for the latter, since they were now so cold and dreary. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 249 

Of course I agreed — but I hope nothing will come between, 
to interfere. Then he took me into the garden, and we 
walked up and down Goethe's walk for a while, under his 
study window. I pulled a rose-leaf, saying I must have 
something, whereupon he said you must have something 
too, and gave me the ivy-leaf, which I enclose." 

"Thursday, Nov. 18, 1873. 

" I am invited to a soiree at the Erbgrossherzog's this 
evening. . . . The G. D. has determined to keep 
away, on account of the row in the Kunstschule. . . . 
Began Act V. last evening — couldn't help it. To-day, 
D. V. I shall finish Scene II. There's no use of waiting, 
while I'm in the humor to write. I shall pay two or 
three adieu visits this afternoon, and so get comfortably 
through by Friday morning." 

"Nov. 21, 1873. 

"The Erb — G. Duchess was very agreeable: . . . 

Frl. v. S was also charming and the Countess Y . 

Gleichen was there, but not Goethe : We had croquettes, 
venison and jelly on silver plates, and there was no stiff 

ceremony, except on the part of the Excellenz v. W , 

whom I offended by talking just 5 seconds too long with 

Herr v. W before I saluted her. However, I sought 

her out afterward, old and dragon-like as she is, and 
miselte recht ordentlich. . . . 'The Prophet' calls me, 
and I'll stop here." 

Next morning in Leipzig my husband finished his 
drama, and before we went to dinner he read the entire 
fifth act to me. This conception had never presented 
itself to him in other than the dramatic form ; but he was 
fully conscious that it was not adapted to the stage. 
The motives and action are borrowed from the home life 
of America. The farm, the camp meeting, the religious 
element that stirs the country population so deeply, 



2 so ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the evolution of a new sect, for which the unbounded 
and uninhabited West offered the most favourable soil — 
all this could belong only to the United States. The 
history of the Mormons served him as a background, 
but the characters, as well as the plot and development 
of the drama, were the author's own invention, and, as 
he expressly stated, have nothing to do with the Mor- 
mons. To unprejudiced readers of the Bible the drama 
and what the author intended to convey are easily com- 
prehensible, as the tragedy of the action is based upon 
the belief in the divine inspiration of the scriptures that 
precludes any other than the literal interpretation. 

• When the drama was finished the author's poetic 
energy began to flag, and a reaction set in that could 
not fail to succeed such intense mental labour mingled 
with numerous social engagements. A period of relaxa- 
tion in my parent's home was therefore very grateful 
to my husband. The month of December passed in 
cheerful leisure. We lived, as Taylor expressed himself, 
"like the early Christians, not taking much thought of 
the morrow, yet reasonably happy and hopeful." 

One circumstance only — aside from the frequent indis- 
positions of my father, which caused much anxiety on his 
account — filled us with dismay. This was the rigorous 
winter climate of my native town, that began to manifest 
itself in a disagreeable way about the solstice. My 
husband's health as well as my own required that we 
should avoid extreme cold and take refuge in the South; 
and in order to reap the full benefit of those sunny climes 
our intention this time was to proceed to Egypt. The 
expense of the trip and of the sojourn by the Nile was to 
be furnished by letters to the Tribune that Taylor had 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 251 

promised to write. With heavy hearts we bade adieu 
to the dear old folks, and with slight delays we travelled 
by way of Naples and Messina to Alexandria, and thence 
to Cairo. 

As the season was too far advanced for a trip up the 
Nile, we were perforce obliged to content ourselves with 
the excursion to the Pyramids of Gizeh, while Taylor 
went alone to the Fayoum, which was then almost terra 
incognita. 

An unusually cold, rainy winter had descended upon 
the shores of the Mediterranean. In Cairo the temper- 
ature was several times so low that we longed for a fire. 
On March 1st snow fell in Suez, and not till toward 
the end of the month did the weather improve, when the 
Khamsin * began to blow and brought us hot, sunny days. 

In Naples I learned of the death of my beloved father 
on March 28th. The sad news was first communicated 
to me by a newspaper notice, and letters with more 
detailed information reached me in Rome, whither we 
hastened without delay. My father had died peacefully 
after a short illness. His bier had been made in the 
upper hall of the Observatory, and a wreath of laurel 
crowned his snowy hair. 

With short interruptions we continued our journey 
Gothaward till we arrived in the orphaned Observatory 
and greeted my sorrowing mother — a most painful home- 
coming ! 

While my husband again tarried a short time in Weimar, 
I helped my mother vacate the house, which belonged 
to the ducal government. My father's numerous manu- 

* Khamsin (pronounced Kams£en) is the Arabic word for fifty, a 
designation of the southwest wind, which blows fifty days without 
interruption from the Sahara Desert. L. B. T. K. 



252 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

scripts, the products of an enormous industry, were given 
by his widow to the Academy of Science in Leipzig. The 
decorations of the departed, seven in number, were 
returned according to the rule to the governments which 
had conferred them, and she distributed among her 
children most of the valuable heirlooms that had de- 
scended to her from her parents and grandparents. 
In Weimar Taylor made the acquaintance of Walther 
von Goethe, Wolf, being absent, who accorded him a 
reception equally friendly as his brother had done, and 
fulfilling the latter's promise, showed him the rooms of his 
grandfather and various articles of the inheritance. 
Describing a tea at Belvedere, with the grand ducal 
family, my husband wrote to me: 

" They were as amiable and agreeable as possible. The 
two Princesses were delighted with Lars, and had sent to 
England for more of my works. I sat beside the Grand 
Duchess. There were only two Hofdamen and two 
Kammerherren — no servants during tea. The Princess 
Marie handed me cream, sandwiches, etc. I really 
enjoyed the evening very well, and managed to tell the 
Herrschaften various things they didn't know. They 
are all thoroughly good-hearted, and so unceremonious 
that I can't understand how the Weimar court has been 
misrepresented. "* 

At the end of the summer we bade farewell to Germany, 
in whose soil we now left three freshly made graves, f 

*Bayard Taylor summed up his experiences in Weimar in two inter- 
esting articles for the Atlantic Monthly — "Autumn Days in Weimar" 
and "Weimar in June." After his death they were published by G. P. 
Putnam's Sons in a volume with several other papers under the title: 
"Critical Essays and Literary Notes." 

fMy uncle, August Bufleb, the friend and Nile companion of Bayard 
Taylor, had also died in the summer of 1874. 



IN THE OLD WORLD AGAIN 253 

On the other side also we found changes; beside Horace 
Greeley, another friend of old standing, George P. Put- 
nam, Taylor's faithful New York publisher, had un- 
expectedly departed this world, and our beautiful " Cedar- 
croft" was in a state of deterioration under the careless 
management of unprincipled tenants. As my husband 
was not only determined to live in New York henceforth, 
but was even forced to do so at present by the necessity 
of earning money, he gave the property into the care of 
his family, and thenceforward we did not enter its doors 
except as guests. 



CHAPTER XIII 

Sunset 

It was the fall of the year when we arrived in " Cedar- 
croft" on our return from Europe. A pleasant surprise 
awaited us. The people had planned to celebrate the 
homecoming of the poet of "Lars," and in consequence 
an invitation was tendered to Bayard Taylor and his 
family to attend a basket picnic at "Mount Cuba," near 
Hockessin, Delaware. When the appointed day arrived 
a radiant sun shone in the deep azure sky, gilding the 
brilliant hues of the autumn landscape and illuminating 
the country, which shimmered in a faint blue haze. An 
hour's drive brought us to the place, where a large 
rectangular pavilion had been erected on the banks of 
a stream that brawled in its rocky bed, surrounded by 
wooded hills. The walls of the structure were draped 
with flags and garlanded with wreaths of autumn leaves, 
between which tablets were suspended, bearing quota- 
tions from Taylor's poems, framed in ivy. A large con- 
course of friends from far and near awaited us. Many 
of them were old friends and acquaintances of Taylor's 
youth — Quakers or the descendants of Quakers. We were 
warmly welcomed and greeted with handshaking, and 
then all turned their attention to the long richly laden 
tables. The latter were set with the best that the 
fertile soil of Chester County and Delaware, the poultry 
yards and larders of the efficient housewives, could 

254 



SUNSET 255 

furnish. The appetising viands were diversified by 
baskets of luscious grapes and great nosegays of beautiful 
autumn flowers — blue gentians and lobelias from the 
meadows, asters and goldenrod from the hillsides, 
mingled with the crimson leaves of the maple and the 
pale gold of the sassafras, of which the poet sings in 
"Lars." To him was given the seat of honour, with 
his mother and his wife on either hand. After a while 
the first speech was made by the chairman of the com- 
mittee of arrangements, who expressed the thanks of 
Hockessin to the author of "Lars," because he had not 
only immortalised the idyllic beauty of the valley, but 
had also given poetic expression to the spirit of Quaker 
thought and principle. Similar speeches, interspersed 
with poems written for the occasion, followed, and the 
hours passed without our taking note of them. When 
the setting sun touched the tops of the encircling woods 
the poet arose and in a voice vibrating with emotion gave 
expression to his heartfelt gratitude for "a day which 
will stand in my memory bathed in its own solemn and 
sacred light." * 

It was indeed an hour that compensated for much that 
he had borne in the past. With renewed courage he 
again turned to the laborious work with which he was 
forced by the exigencies of life to burden himself. 

While my husband was in the West, whither numerous 
lecturing calls had summoned him, I moved our belong- 
ings to New York and put our quarters in order, which 
the head of the house did not see till Christmas. Before 
his return he wrote: 

*From Bayard Taylor's address at Mount Cuba, published in Dela- 
ware State Journal, October 17, 1874. 



256 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"When you get the boxes, etc., from the storage, let 
Lilian put up my Ersch and Gruber, and the other books, 
so that I may have a little library on coming home. I'd 
like to have my colors, etc., in readiness, and perhaps 
you could get me one or two little canvases at Schaus's. 
I shall paint on Sundays this winter instead of writing." 

In the latter portions of the winter Taylor was also 
more or less en route. He thought it advisable to make 
hay while the sun shone, and, in fact, the proceeds from 
his lectures were not to be disdained. His letters from 
the West, however, gave me some insight into the dis- 
comforts and hardships that he had to endure. " It was 
plain to me," I wrote to my husband, "from your first 
letter in Omaha, that these fatiguing journeys use you 
up. Even if you say in the next: 'I was not so much 
fatigued after lecturing as on previous Saturdays' (caro 
mio, you write thus every Sunday), the question is: how 
dreadfully tired were you at first? " 

At intervals he had pleasant experiences to relate. 
In Mankato, Minn., Freiligrath's son, Wolfgang, paid 
him a visit. "He is settled here as a fur-trader," Taylor 
wrote, "and seems to be doing well. He is quite hand- 
some, remarkably like his father." In Illinois he was 

the guest of a German, Doctor S , and his "highly 

well-born wife — ne'e Princessin von B . I couldn't 

help thinking of Spielhagen's novels." Another time he 
wrote: "I heard a funny newspaper expression on the 
train this morning. Two men were talking about a third, 
and one said : ' He lives at Harper's down on the bottom, 
doesn't he?' The other answered: 'He did live there, 
but he's married now, and gone to himself to live!'" 

In April, 1875, Taylor wrote to me from the West: 



SUNSET ?57 

"You'll be surprised to hear that I occasionally write a 
few lines — of poetry! But I'll not tell you what they are, 
until I return." When he arrived home he produced 
a manuscript, and read the Shepherd's monologue to me, 
which forms the opening scene of his last important 
poetical work. But according to his wont, he would not 
disclose the plan and scope of his creation. When I 
expressed my surprise and liking of the opening passage, 
however, he went so far as to tell me the title of the 
drama: it was to be called " Eos." Not long after he dis- 
carded this name, and gave preference to " Prince Deuka- 
lion." When I asked him: "Why Prince?" he replied, 
" Because this Deukalion is a type far superior to all 
other men." 

This, his last drama, was later characterised by him 
as "the poem of my life." It sprang from his inmost 
spiritual thought, and contains the sum of his ripest 
views of life and the world, of his religious and social 
beliefs, of his rich and varied knowledge and insight. If 
much is veiled and only comprehensible to the initiated, 
this is in accordance with the spirit of poetry. Taylor 
expressed himself in regard to such manifestations in 
one of his notes to the Second Part of "Faust," where 
he says: 

"We find traces of that truth which reaches the poet 
by a deeper intuition, having the involuntary nature, yet 
also the distinctness, of a dream; and which always con- 
tains more than its utterer can explain. What to the 
common mind would be guesses are to the poetic mind 
prophetic glimpses, which may not be verified during 
the poet's life. He cannot reject them, for they come 
to him with an irresistible authority : he must therefore be 



258 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

silent and suffer them to stand as mysteries for his con- 
temporaries." * 

The idea of the poem had long been present in embryo 
in his mind, but it was not till now, in his riper years, 
that he felt equal to the task of calling it into existence. 
Even his dearly beloved plan of the twin biography of 
Goethe and Schiller was for the present driven into the 
background by the promptings of the Muse. 

The summer passed amid a number of short trips 
hither and thither. During a visit to Mr. and Mrs. 
James T. Fields at their picturesque cottage in Manchester- 
by-the-Sea, we met the aged poet Whittier, whose peculiar 
placidity "always seemed to shed an atmosphere of peace 
upon everyone who came in contact with him. The 
great dark eyes alone, that shone in the pale oval of his 
face, gave evidence of the poetic fire that burned in his 
soul. Whenever I saw him he seemed to me the ideal 
manly type of a handsome Quaker. 

Toward the end of August, while I was still in the 
country, Taylor made the acquaintance of the Southern 
poet, Sidney Lanier, then a rising star in the constellation 
of American poets. The two men were mutally delighted 
with one another at their very first meeting. Next day 
my husband wrote : " Lanier, the Georgia poet, came, 
and is a very refined, agreeable man. I expect him every 
minute to dine with me on a single chicken." Lanier's 
personality was such as to attract attention anywhere. 
His noble features were framed in thick, dark curling 

* The sentences quoted above will be found in a somewhat abbrevi- 
ated form in Note 45, to the second volume of the Translation of 
"Faust." The full text cited by me is in a manuscript book, which I 
gave to Harvard University Library, along with a number of others, 
after the poet's death. 




rfc%^. J.^.^-ff-rr.r 



SUNSET 259 

locks; his full, long beard concealed the pallor of his 
cheeks, and his dark eyes had a look as if he dwelt in 
another world than ours. In him two sister arts were 
wedded — music and poetry; and one needed first to 
recognise the musician in order fully to appreciate the 
poet. His young wife, whom we learned to know a year 
later, is likewise a Southerner. Her delicate beauty 
and large, dreamy dark eyes made her seem specially 
created to be the helpmate of a poet. Lanier was then in 
the midst of his fight for existence, which he heroically 
continued to wage until his untimely death. 

Bayard Taylor was also engaged in a manful struggle 
for the necessaries of life. Lacking any fixed income 
since the failure of the Tribune to pay dividends, he was 
obliged when autumn approached to look again to a 
lecturing tour for his principal source of revenue. At 
the same time the lyrical drama upon which he was 
writing was continuously present to his mind. At the 
end of the summer he wrote a part of the Second Act, 
encountering some difficulties with the second scene. 
After rewriting it several times, he laid it aside, and at 
the turn of the year the whole act was revised and fairly 
copied out. How it was possible for him to foster and 
produce a poetic work requiring as much profound 
reflection as "Prince Deukalion," during a period of great 
physical exertions and hardships, such as his lecturing 
tours forced upon him, is more than I can say. On 
January 26th he wrote to me from Fort Wayne, "I am 
trying to write a little on Scene 1, Act III, to-day"; and 
on the 30th, while resting over Sunday in Chicago, he 
said, "I have had little chance to write anything — 
Scene 1 is not finished. But I keep fresh and vigorous, 



2 6o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

and do a good [deal] of head-work on the poem, as I go 
along." After his return home in March he wrote the 
second scene of the Third Act; but after its conclusion 
the poem remained at a standstill until the autumn of 
the following year. Not only did external obstacles 
intervene, but he was also hindered for the time being by 
a serious difficulty in the further development of the fun- 
damental idea of the poem. As ^far as externals were 
concerned there were two circumstances that directed 
his thoughts into other channels. On March 27th 
Taylor again joined the editorial staff of the Tribune, after 
more than twenty years of absence — a step to which he 
was forced because during the non-payment of dividends 
to the stockholders of the paper this was the only way 
to secure himself a regular income. He hoped, at the 
same time, to find leisure at home for the furtherance of 
his own creative work. The sequel shows how vain this 
expectation was. Shortly after this decisive step my 
husband was appointed the poet of the Centennial 
Celebration of American Independence, after the honour 
had been declined by the older poets. His patriotic 
conscience would not permit him to do likewise, and so 
he "stepped into the breach at the eleventh hour," as 
he expressed himself. The Ode was accomplished after 
weeks of mental exertion, in which he strained every 
nerve to the utmost. At the same time he fulfilled even 
the most trivial of his duties at the Tribune office. He 
bent his neck to a yoke that weighed upon him more 
and more heavily as time progressed. The arrangement 
at first was that he should undertake the literary part of 
the paper, particularly the critical reviews, which were 
germane to his profession. But additional work was 



SUNSET 261 

soon put upon him. He was sent as correspondent to the 
opening ceremonies of the International Exposition at 
Philadelphia on May 10th, and later was required to 
visit the fair in the same capacity, especially to report 
upon the art exhibit. How arduous these different 
tasks proved to the man of fifty may be seen from an 
entry in my diary on May nth: "B. T. did not come 
back till midnight ; after returning from Philadelphia he 
went straight to the Tribune office and finished his report 
there. He has had no time to eat anything since two 
o'clock in the afternoon." 

That summer, the first in which duty kept him in the 
city, was, moreover, the hottest on record. His wife 
and daughter went to "Cedarcroft," but he could only 
snatch an occasional Sunday there for rest. A letter of 
June 14th says, "All goes well here. I wrote two edi- 
torials yesterday ... I called on Stedman's last 
night ; they were in grief about their banana-bird, which 
had been eaten by a rat." On the 23d of the same month 
he wrote: "I shall write on Weimar to-morrow and 
Sunday, to keep off longing for you and 'Cedarcroft.' " 

About the same time I wrote to my mother : 

"We suffer a great deal from the heat, and still the 
temperature rises from day to day. ... I am 
filled with anxiety for my poor husband, who swelters 
in the hot city. His newspaper work did not permit 
him to come out last Sunday, but we hope to see him 
next Saturday. Then we are all three going to Phila- 
delphia on Monday to be ready for Independence Day 
Celebration next morning." 

The Fourth of July was illuminated by a burning sun. 



2 6 2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

But in order to describe the events of that day exactly as 
they happened I must again have recourse to the words 
in which I related them to my mother : 

" At an early hour we repaired to a parlour in the Conti- 
nental Hotel, where the Governors of several states were 
assembled, and the members of the committee received 
us. Then we proceeded in couples to Independence 
Square. My husband gave me his arm and Lilian had 
the honour of walking with the Governor of New Mexico. 
The platform was erected just behind Independence 
Hall, and was large enough to accommodate the invited 
guests with seats. In front, overlooking Independence 
Square, was the speakers' stand ; we were shown to seats 
close by. , Awnings were stretched in sections over the 
platform, to shield the thousands of guests from the 
fiery rays of the sun, but the countless multitude that 
thronged the square, shoulder to shoulder, had no 
protection beyond the scanty shade of some old trees, 
and sheltered itself with umbrellas and sunshades as best 
it might. And yet this immense concourse stood for 
five whole hours without losing patience or parting 
with its holiday humour. 

"The last guest to arrive upon the platform was Dom 
Pedro, Emperor of Brazil. He came in plain clothing and 
alone; after he had taken his seat a march announced 
the beginning of the ceremonies. Then the Mayor of 
Philadelphia advanced to the edge of the platform, and 
held up to the view of the people a document yellow 
with age — the Declaration of Independence. Thousands 
upon thousands of voices joined in wild cheering, and 
when the hurrahs at last ceased the Mayor handed the 
parchment to Mr. Lee, of Virginia, the grandson of one 
of the signers, who read the priceless scroll aloud. The 
National Ode followed. The poet advanced to the edge 
of the platform, facing the vast audience, and declaimed 
by heart, without a manuscript, the rythmical Pindaric 



SUNSET 263 

strophes of his Ode in his own sonorous, far-reaching 
tones. After the first few lines a hush settled down 
upon the throng that up to the present moment had been 
more or less restless and noisy, and this continued — 
broken only here and there by applause — until the final 
stanza, when the air was rent with a storm of shouts and 
cheers. You can imagine how proud we, his wife and 
daughter, felt. 

"The Ode was followed by the oration, which William 
M. Evarts read from his manuscript, and the celebration 
was concluded by singing the hundredth psalm: 'Make 
a joyful noise unto the Lord all ye lands,' in which 
the populace joined. 

" Taylor felt so exhausted by the excitement of the day 
and the cruel heat that we hastened to evade the crowd 
by leaving immediately after the singing. We were 
fortunate in being able to follow in the wake of General 
Sheridan and his staff, for whose exit a lane was being 
made. But before we reached Independence Hall, 
through which our path lay, we experienced some moments 
which can never be forgotten. A large number of the 
common people had crowded upon the platform, and 
stood like a wall on both sides of the narrow passageway 
through which we were obliged to pass. As soon as they 
caught sight of Taylor cries resounded on all sides: 
'That's Bayard Taylor !'—' That's him!'— 'There he 
comes, our Centennial Poet!' — 'Hurrah for our Poet!' — 
and hands were stretched out from either side eager to 
grasp his. Words cannot express how our hearts were 
moved by this ovation from the people. It was the 
fairest tribute that the poet could desire." 

The following morning duty called my husband back 
to New York, and I accompanied him for a visit of a 
week. There a number of tasks awaited him, which he 
accomplished only with the most strenuous exertion 
in an atmosphere of ioo°. One evening, when he was 



264 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

entitled to a period of rest after an exhausting day's 
work in the office, he was recalled on account of an 
important contribution, and did not return till after 
midnight. Unremitting, inexorable work was his portion. 
In the latter part of July he wrote to me : " Yesterday I 
wrote an article on Stanley and translated two columns 
of Schurz's letter." Then he mentioned his editorials on 
the Orient and Mexico ; and a review of Lord Houghton's 
Poems, that he had written, and on August 9th he in- 
quired: "Have you read my two editorials on 'Author- 
ship,' and 'Brain-work?'" These were all articles that 
merited a better fate than to be consigned to oblivion 
as ephemeral newspaper hackwork, for he expended his 
best mental powers upon everything that he wrote. 

Four weeks later we were together again in New York, 
but soon after parted with our daughter, who went to 
Vassar College to finish her education. Meanwhile our 
circle had become more extended than ever and our 
social intercourse was stimulating alike to mind and 
heart. Friends frequently came to see us of an evening, 
and talked for an hour or so. Receptions did not entail 
large expenditure of money, and people still enjoyed the 
divine gift of true friendship, the cultivation of which' is 
rendered impossible nowadays by the vast extent of the 
city's limits. Our Sunday evenings were gatherings 
which many people gladly attended, so that our modest, 
but cosy, little home was hardly able to hold them all. 
At our frequent small dinners the courses were few, but 
the spirits of the participants ran high. Friends often 
dropped in uninvited to luncheon, where an extra place 
was always ready. This informal friendly intercourse 
was the preserving element for Taylor in that period of 



SUNSET 265 

arduous work and bitter disappointment. His natural 
inclination was social, and he was able to throw off 
his yoke in his hours of leisure and to give himself up 
completely to the enjoyment of the hour. He was then a 
cheerful, entertaining companion, who had the gift of 
diffusing life and spirits throughout the company, and of 
awakening mirth and laughter by his inextinguishable 
humour and the witty observations that never lapsed into 
biting sarcasm. He sometimes indulged in punning. 
One evening he returned late from a gentlemen's dinner, 
and told me of a joke that he had perpetrated. One of 
the guests had bored him by talking continually of sun 
myths. After a while Taylor grew tired of this, and said: 
"Have you ever thought of the reason why the name 
Smith occurs so frequently?" When no one had an 
answer ready he continued, "Smith is evidently a 
contracted form of ' sun myth ' ; thus : Sun myth — Sumy th 
— Smith." The whole company burst out laughing, and 
the subject of sun myth was no longer broached. Con- 
cerning an attack of indigestion he one day remarked to 
a friend that he had been obliged to resort to "Pere A. 
Gorick, the curate of St. Omac" for relief. Whether the 
expression "cherub's toes" for pink radishes was his own 
or not I do not know, but I am inclined to believe it was 
original. 

Among the memoranda from Taylor's own pen is an 
entry, descriptive of a dinner at which we were present 
about this time. I quote it almost entire. 



"January 1st, 1877. 
"On Monday last, Dec. 25th, 1876, my review of 
Tupper's Drama (?) of 'Washington' appeared in The 



266 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Tribune. Coming home from the office on Tuesday 
evening, I was quite surprised to find an invitation for us 
from Bryant to dine with him next day, 'to meet Mr. 
Martin F. Tupper.' Marie had already accepted, as the 
messenger waited for an answer: moreover, never before 
in my life had Bryant invited me to his house, and I was 
a little curious to meet him once as host. 

" On arriving, we found Bryant, his daughter Julia, and 
the dapper Tupper in the parlor. The last had changed 
considerably since I saw him here in 185 1 ; but he looked 
better, for age had given him something which is not 
dignity, but might pass for it. I noticed that his right 
hand is shrunken, either from gout or natural deformity; 
that his legs are spindly and his patent-leather feet small. 
He was a little effusive on being introduced, and I could 
not make much of a reply, for I really did not know what 
to say. Almost immediately entered Dr. Holland and 
wife, and I soon saw that we were the whole dinner- 
party. Dr. H. with all his sincere amiability is a little 
unready — or unflexible — on such occasions: he has not 
learned how to unbend and take society sportively. I 
began to suspect that Bryant had invited me with a 
purpose ; and I at once decided to fulfil the purpose. 

" The dinner was good and abundant, with all the con- 
ventional wines. The Hollands, of course did not drink, 
but everybody else made free. It was not long before 
Tupper betrayed his — nature. I think the first evidence 
was his complacent assertion that most of the American 
names we suppose to be Indian are really corrupted 
European names. 'Give an instance!' I said. He was 
a little disconcerted, but presently answered: 'Mobile. 
That is certainly French.' 'It sounds so,' I said; 'but 
perhaps you don't know how it came that the settle- 
ment was founded, not long ago, by Northern men, who 
quarrelled about the appointment of the land. A fight 
was imminent, when somebody opened a barrel of petro- 
leum which he found among the stores, threw it over 



SUNSET 267 

them, and thus restored peace. Therefore they decided 
to call the place Mob-ile.' I looked furtively at Bryant, 
whose upper face was stolid; but his gray mustache 
will conceal a large smile, and I noticed a slight quivering 
about the edges of his beard, which induced me to go 
on. Tupper was evidently mystified. Presently, some- 
thing led him to talk about Greek sculpture, ' It's a great 
mistake,' he said, 'to suppose that the Greeks knew any- 
thing of the human form. Their proportions were all 
wrong.' 'Give an instance!' I exclaimed. He stam- 
mered: 'Ah — well — there's the Milo of Venus — the head 
is a great deal too small.' I looked at Marie, who sat 
opposite, between him and Holland, and came near 
bursting into a shriek. 

" After dinner he turned the conversation upon dreams, 
and said that his chapter on Ambition in 'Proverbial 
Philosophy' was a dream. He proposed reading it — 
which of course could not be avoided, but was a positive 
infliction. His reading was that of a school-boy, monot- 
onous and wearisome in the highest degree. As soon 
afterward as possible, I asked Bryant: 'Have you ever 
read the fragment of an epic poem on Sennacherib, 
written by Cabot, of Boston?' 'Never.' 'There are 
only four lines,' I said; 'he couldn't get any further. I 
tried to continue it, but only added two more.' 'Let 
us have them, by all means!' said Bryant. Then I 
recited Cabot's four lines: 

'There was a king, Sennacherib, 
Who said that he could crack a rib 
With any but Jehosaphat — 
He couldn't his, he was too fat ! ' 

' Now what were the two you added ? ' said Bryant. 

'Then came an angry Moabite, 
Who gave his little toe a bite,' 



268 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

said I. Tupper's face was a study. I cannot guess 
what he thought, and did not try to discover. In the 
course of the dinner he told a story as having been given 
to him by Tennyson, of 'a. damned Yankee' (he pro- 
fessed to quote Tennyson's words) having climbed into 
a tree at Farringford, to overhear Tennyson's talk with 
his wife, on the garden-seat below. Now, it chanced that 
Tennyson had told the same story to me, at Farringford, 
in February, 1867, soon after the thing happened. I 
said to him : ' I hope the man was not an American. ' ' No, ' 
he answered, 'I am sorry to say it was an Englishman.' 
So I felt justified in relating my side of the story. 

"Such specimens of men, I think, are impossible in 
this country. At least I have never seen them." 

When I recall to mind all those dear people to whom 
we were closely united by the bonds of a friendship of 
many years, or of few, I am filled with deep sorrow. The 
intimates who then belonged to the living present, and 
helped to render the golden hours more beautiful, have 
joined the silent majority. And he — the centre of the 
noble circle of friends — gone, too, all of them scattered 
and strewn like dead leaves when the cold breath of the 
autumn wind has passed. But — 

"Warte nur, balde 
Ruhest Du auch." 

Was the Preacher right when he taught the vanity of all 
earthly things? Sometimes, in periods of depression, 
it almost seems to me as if he was. 

Looking through my daily memoranda during the last 
years of my husband's life, I am painfully impressed 
with the conviction of a truth that may be read between 
the lines — how his great capacity for work, his healthy 



SUNSET 269 

exuberant life was gradually undermined by exorbitant 
demands from without and by the constant goading of 
his own creative impulse from within. One of these 
notes in my diary, dated February 28, 1877, reads thus: 
"Now Bayard has been made art critic in addition to 
everything else. The result is, that when we came home 
last night from Ole Bull's concert, he found an order to 
attend the private view of the exhibition at the Academy 
of Art, and write a notice to appear in the morning's 
Tribune." In the middle of March he performed a 
wonderful feat in the way of rapid work, when writing 
a review of Victor Hugo's "La Legende des Siecles" for 
the Tribune. The time allowed him was short, and the 
perusal of the two thick volumes alone was no small 
matter. In spite of this he undertook the task at once, 
and after mastering the contents, wrote a long critical 
review,* including the translation of six lyrical poems, 
in the incredibly short time of a few afternoon and even- 
ing hours. 

In spite of all this the Muse visited him at intervals 
in a favourable hour, and her pinions bore his overbur- 
dened brain aloft into the realms of poetry. Among the 
poems which were thus conceived were "Youth," "Peach 
Blossoms," and "Assyrian Night" — lyrics that are num- 
bered among the most beautiful products of his pen. But 
these moments of poetic inspiration were rare. 

When the spring of 1877 approached it became evident 
that a period of rest was absolutely necessary to my 
husband. But he was not able to leave New York before 
July, when he sought refreshment and renewed vigour 

* Published after the author's death in a volume entitled "Critical 
Essays and Literary Notes." 



270 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

among the Sulphur Springs of West Virginia. There 
he seemed to recuperate in the delightful mountain air 
and complete repose of the baths. One circumstance 
alone gave him uneasiness during this vacation. Rumours 
that President Hayes had selected him for a ministerial 
post began to be circulated. Russia was first mentioned, 
and then Belgium. Neither of these places possessed 
attraction for him; he declared that he would accept no 
other post than Berlin; there he might find leisure to 
write the twin Biography, which had hitherto been forced 
to stand back so many years. But as he declined to 
ask for the appointment, the matter rested for the time 
being. , 

Not only the Biography — his lyrical drama also had 
been forced into the background. "Like the peri for 
paradise,"* he longed once more to take up the thread 
of the poem, a wish which was soon to be fulfilled. At 
the end of August, after two months' rest, as he was sail- 
ing past Minot's Ledge in a small boat, on the way to 
Cohasset, Mass., in the company of his friend James R. 
Osgood, the "Vision of Deukalion" was suddenly revealed 
to his inner eye in the flash of an inspiration. Thus was 
solved the problem which had hitherto hindered him in 
the poetic development of the drama. 

Immediately after his return home to his library, he 
employed every leisure moment to finish the Third Act, 
that had given him so much trouble. The Fourth and 
last Act, which had long stood clear and distinct before 
his mind, followed rapidly, and on October 7th he wrote 
the final stanza of the poem. In an exhilarated mood 
he read to me the melodious songs of the shepherd 

*Bayard Taylor's own words. 



SUNSET 271 

and shepherdess, which occur near the end, while I stood 
behind his chair and looked over his shoulder at the manu- 
script. During the reading, while I was intently listen- 
ing to his voice, something suddenly whispered within 
me: "Swan-song! — his swan-song!" — Whence this pre- 
monition? I know not, for although I was often anxious 
of late about my husband's health, the thought that I 
might lose him had never seriously entered my mind. 
Once only during that autumn I was seized with a 
deeper feeling of anxiety. He sat at his desk, at work 
on some article for the Tribune, when he stopped sud- 
denly, and exclaimed in a tone of desperation: "If I 
don't succeed in writing the Biography soon, I shall 
never do it! It is impossible to carry around such a 
mass of material in my head much longer : it must escape 
me!" This was the only time when he expressed a doubt 
of his memory. In addition, a sort of preoccupation 
had grown upon him of late. At times he seemed 
utterly absent-minded, did not hear what I said to him, 
and yet gave answer mechanically. I used to joke 
about this habit, and warned him not to let it grow, citing 
the example of the learned Neander,* who came home one 
day and complained to his sister that he had suddenly 
grown lame, having limped all the way. The explanation 
was furnished by an acquaintance, who had seen him 
walking with one foot on the curbstone and the other 
in the gutter. Taylor's work, however, did not suffer from 
his absence of mind. Concentration of thought had 
always been one of his eminent characteristics, of which 
he reaped the benefits at the present time, when he 
undertook, in addition to the many and varied tasks 
*A German theologian of note. 



272 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

with which he was burdened, to translate Schiller's 
"Don Carlos" and adapt it to the American stage. The 
suggestion came from Lawrence Barrett, who believed 
himself peculiarly fitted to impersonate the hero, and 
succeeded in persuading Taylor to furnish the English 
version of the tragedy. Thus the few leisure hours that 
were at his disposal must be devoted to the accomplish- 
ment of this great task. The poetic character and the 
sublimity of the subject, however, excited his interest 
to such a degree that he scarcely noticed the strain 
upon his intellectual faculties. It was an easy task, more- 
over, for the translator of "Faust" to render Schiller's 
smooth iambic verse into his native tongue — he even 
enjoyed doing so. Only the circumstance that he was 
required to shorten the idealistic work of the German 
poet and to adapt it to the stage representation in such 
a fashion as the actor wished, was an irksome condition 
which caused him considerable difficulty. Many were 
the deliberations we held with German friends upon the 
knotty points before Taylor was able to steer safely to 
port, avoiding both Scylla and Charybdis. 

New Year's Day came around once more, and in the 
evening — it was the last time — we spent a few pleasant 
hours with Rhine wine and German lebkuchen in the 
company of the intimate friends who came to wish us 
"a happy New Year." 

One evening, a few weeks later, when a small poem 
saw the light at my instigation, stands most vividly in 
my memory. We were members of a semi-literary club, 
the "Fraternity," for whose February meeting another 
member and I had been elected co-editors of the monthly 
manuscript magazine. The contributions were all to be 



SUNSET 273 

original, and furnished or collected by the editors; so I 
made up my mind to beg a poem from my husband as a 
special favour. I was well aware that I was asking a 
great deal of him, who came home from the Tribune 
office late and weary. Nevertheless, as we sat before the 
open fire after dinner and the smoke wreaths ascended 
from his cigar, I ventured to proffer my request: "Only 
a little thing! You shake them so easily out of your 
sleeve!" A sigh was the answer. But later, when he 
sat down to his desk, he soon reappeared with a sheet of 
paper in his hand, saying, "There, take what I have 
written!" It was that little poem, bubbling over with a 
sportive fancy, "The Imp of Springtime," which may be 
found in his collected poems. m> 

Thus the first weeks of the year 1878 passed amid alter- 
nate pleasures, pastimes, and severe drudgery, to which 
was superadded the uneasiness caused by the continued 
rumours of a ministerial appointment for Taylor. Late in 
January there was even a definite report that the Presi- 
dent intended to send him to Berlin, but still the slightest 
intimation addressed to himself was lacking. The result- 
ing uncertainty as to the near future exerted a disturbing 
influence upon my husband's spirits, until the suspense 
was at last ended, late at night on February 15 th, by a 
message from the Tribune office. A telegram from 
Washington had just brought the news that the President 
had sent Taylor's name to the Senate as his choice for 
Minister to the German Empire. 

Thus the die was finally cast. And although the 
heavy burden of journalistic slavery dropped from his 
shoulders, other demands were made upon my husband's 
strength, which were by no means salutary. As soon as 



274 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

his nomination and its ratification by the Senate appeared 
in the papers, we were overwhelmed with congratulations, 
and innumerable invitations to private receptions and 
dinners in honour of the new Minister began to pour in 
upon us. Each additional banquet, each successive 
festivity, gave me cause for more and more anxiety for 
my husband, already taxed so far beyond his strength — 
and when a kind-hearted friend exclaimed to me : " What 
happy people you are!" I was filled with a secret shud- 
dering fear : her words rang in my ears like a sinister fore- 
boding! 

One of the last days before we sailed was devoted to 
taking leave of Taylor's aged parents, who, proud of their 
son's distinction, heroically subdued their sorrow over 
his departure. We all concealed our sadness under a 
cheerful mask and gave voice to happy auguries for the 
future. When the hour struck for saying farewell the 
aged mother raised her glass and drank to our safe voyage, 
with the German words: 

"Wir sitzen so frohlich beisammen, 

Wir haben uns alle so lieb, 

Wir heitern einander das Leben, 

Ach wenn es doch immer so blieb!"* 

Thus we parted — how different was our return! 

When we had at last boarded the steamer that was to 
transport us to Europe, and my weary husband thought 
that a period of rest would be vouchsafed to him, he found 

* "We're sitting together so happy, 
We love one another so true, 
We gladden each other's existence, 
Ah, would that we always so do." 

L. B. T. K. 



SUNSET 275 

it impossible to sleep. Feverish fantasies haunted him, 
dreams in which he was obliged to make speeches and 
deliver addresses, until the ship's doctor finally resorted 
to narcotics in order to quiet his overwrought brain. 
But the traces of what he had been obliged to undergo 
during the last few weeks did not vanish. They showed 
so plainly in his face that old acquaintances who met him 
in London and Paris were shocked at his appearance. It 
was not till after his arrival in Berlin that a certain 
degree of restfulness took possession of him. He found 
the conditions and surroundings which awaited him to 
his liking, and his health improved in consequence. 

During the summer, one after another, followed those 
events which raised the mind of the whole German 
nation to a high pitch of excitement and suspense. 
People had hardly begun to recover from the shock of 
the first unsuccessful attempt on the Emperor's life, 
when the dreadful news overwhelmed them: "Another 
attempt to assassinate the Emperor has been made — he 
is wounded — perhaps fatally!" Thus the representative 
of the United States was plunged from the very first into 
the midst of the public excitement of a very significant 
period of German history, a time, moreover, during 
which another event of European importance occurred. 
On July 13th the International Congress met in Berlin, 
to establish peace between Russia and Turkey, according 
to the terms agreed upon at San Stefano, and thus to 
satisfy not only England, but also the demands of Austria. 
Bismarck, as the "honest broker,"* was the presiding 
member of the Congress, which met in the Imperial 
Chancellor's palace in the Wilhelm Strasse. 

*His own designation in a speech before the Reichstag. 



276 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

A few days before the opening session Bayard Taylor 
succeeded in being admitted to an audience with the Prince, 
a favour accorded to but few of the Envoys Extraordinary. 
Bismarck, who received Taylor without any ceremony, 
led the way at once into the park-like garden behind the 
palace, and there the two men walked up and down for 
over an hour, talking together, while the "dog of the 
Empire," an immense great Dane, called Tyras, fol- 
lowed his master's footsteps. Taylor returned home 
charmed with Bismarck's personality, and related to us 
that the great statesman was evidently glad to eschew 
politics, and had talked exclusively of the cultivating 
of flowers, of laying out gardens, of the peculiarities of 
animals,^ and kindred topics. 

As we arrived in Berlin in May, and could not move 
into permanent quarters until the autumn, we lived 
meanwhile in an apartment that Mr. Sidney Everett, 
First Secretary of our Legation, put at our disposal 
during the temporary absence of his family. As a sum- 
mer abode, however, we preferred the little town of 
Friedrichroda, in my native Thuringian Forest, whither 
I repaired with my daughter about the middle of June, 
while my husband for the time being remained in Berlin. 
As he came in contact with the more distinguished mem- 
bers of the Congress — although as a spectator merely — the 
letters that I received from him contained many interest- 
ing items which he related with his customary humour. 
On the opening day, and on succeeding days, he wrote: 

"American Legation, Berlin, June 13, 1878. 
" It has been a busy day for me, after all. I telegraphed 
at the Potsdamer Thor, then left the carriage and walked 
for more than two miles hither and yon, before reaching 



SUNSET 277 

home. I found cards from Becky and Sally (Beacons- 
field and Salisbury!) and soon after came those of Count 
Corti and the whole special Embassy. Letters from 
the Consul at Manheim, from an oppressed naturalized 
citizen, and from the Foreign Ministry — all relating to 
nearly the same affair — came in a bunch. The result 
is that I am compelled to write a strong note to the 
German Government and a strong dispatch to Washing- 
ton. It requires thought and care, and the general 
effect is (as Mark Twain says of climbing to the Konig- 
stuhl) "invigorating but devilish." When I came back 
to the empty rooms this morning, I felt rather wretched ; 
so now I am inclined to look upon this diplomatic bother 
as rather a god-send, since it will possess much of my 
thought until the two important papers are written. 

"I left return cards on Becky and Sally, made quite 
a lot of calls. ... I met the Crown Prince and 
Princess on the way: he recognized me, and made a very 
cordial greeting. Baron and Baroness von der Heydt 
called to-day, for special reasons. They invited me to 
dine with them any day. . . . The Baroness says 
she will be glad to assist you in your housekeeping 
troubles. I got another butcher's address from them. 
(Am I not practical?) My two lonely meals have been 
very nice, and it is hardly complimentary to you to say 
that I have had an excellent appetite. . . . The 
Bunsens have invited me to dinner on Saturday, and I 
have accepted. To-day I drove past Bismarck's Palace, 
and it was a sight to notice the crowds, held back by 
policemen, who waited to see the high personages come 
out. ... I shall finish the list of necessary calls by 
Saturday, besides all the returns of cards." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
Friday evening, June 14, 1878. 
" I have been hard at work all day, new cases* coming 

*These were complaints by naturalised German -American citizens. 



278 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

in. . . . Cards from Corti, Andrassy and many 
others, which I have returned — besides called on Prince 
Gortchakoff, who was just summoned to dinner but sent 
down word that he would be very glad to see me. . . . 
The sudden influx of business is really a good thing, for 
it keeps my mind busy, and I therefore feel my loneliness 
less. I am learning rapidly to use my eyes in driving 
out, and to recognize people quickly, since I haven't you 
to help me." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
"Sunday, June 16, 1878. 

" I burst into a laugh over your misgiving with regard 
to the dinner at Bunsen's. If you go on, you will finally 
be as bad as Neander's sister, and will telegraph to me 
every morning to put on my trousers before going into 
the streets! As if I could forget it! No: and I shall 
long remember it. I like Bunsen more and more; I was 
first there, met his wife and both daughters, and then 
came — Helmholz! While I was telling him that I 
counted on his aid for material for my Biography of 
Goethe, the door opened, and Lepsius appeared. Hardly 
had I greeted him, when there was a new arrival — Minis- 
ter Waddington, of the Republic of France, and one of 
the most simple, genial and agreeable of men. Then 
Herr v. Norman, Adjutant (or something else) of the 
Crown Princess, whom I recognized, at once, having 
met him years ago at HoltzendorfFs in Gotha; next 
Cur this, and finally — Mommsen! 

"We had a beautiful, delightful dinner. I sat between 
Frau and Fraulein v. Bunsen, with Curtius next on my 
right, and Lepsius and Helmholz opposite. I think 
I knitted the ends of friendly intercourse around all three. 
Curtius promised to send me photographs of the Olympia 
statues ; and when I said that you would also be delighted 
to see them, he asked whether you had a special interest 
for classic art. So I spoke of your residence in Rome 
with your uncle, and when I mentioned his name there 



SUNSET 279 

was a general outburst of enthusiasm. All three had 
known him personally, loved him, and were full of 
pietdt for his character and knowledge. ... I had 
afterwards, a long talk with Waddington, and a short 
one with Mommsen. The evening was perfectly inspiring 
to me. . . . To-morrow evening I am invited to 
meet the Congress at Lord Odo's, and Wednesday evening 
at Count Carolyi's. Cards come in by the dozen, and I 
scatter mine punctually in return." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
"Monday, June 17, 1878. 

"Lady Odo must have quite forgotten your p. p. c. 
She called to-day in person, while I was out, with the 
Marquis of Salisbury, and not finding you, wrote on her 
card that she expected us and 'Miss Bayard Taylor' at 
the grand reception this evening. I'll explain it to her. 
I take Everett and Coleman with me, so that the whole 
Legation will be represented at once to the High and 
Mighty Embassies. 

"Graf Nesselrode (Oberhofmarshall) has written me a 
very pleasant note saying that the Grafin Perponcher is 
absent, that the Empress is 'sehr geruhrt' by my letter 
to the latter, and will receive me as soon as the Emperor's 
condition will allow her to do so. . . . I am only 
owing four calls this evening. I use my slate constantly, 
and keep things spinning. The bag is off, all the dis- 
patches sent, and only some fag-ends of business left. 
. . . A correspondent of the Belletristische, who 

brought a card from B , writes to ask me to pay his 

passage back to N. Y. ! And W , of W 's Theatre, 

wants to be thought an American citizen, to escape 
military duty, and gives us no end of trouble. Wer 
nie sein Brod mit Thrdnen ass * — der ist nie Amerik. 

Gesandter gewesen ! And the B cooly informs me 

that she will, next fall, renew her request to be presented. 

* Quotation from "Wil'helm Meister." 



2 8o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

. . . I have also an appeal from the Jews in N. Y. 
to try and move Congress to give them religious liberty 
in Bulgaria! I think that is all that has happened since 
yesterday; but isn't it enough? I forgot — Schlozer* 
called this morning to say that the Hotel du Nord (where 
he stays) will do its best to make Grant and party com- 
fortable. The landlord has heard that G. is to be here 
on the 20th, and that I had been trying to get him into 
the Kaiserhof . But this afternoon comes a Paris Register, 
which says that G. left on the 14th, for Brussels, (I con- 
gratulate Goodloe!) and will go to Copenhagen via 
Amsterdam and Hamburg. I ardently hope it is true." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
Tuesday, June 18, 1878. 
"It is one p. m. and no letter from you yet! But I 
must at least write and let you know that I didn't forget 
Bunsen's on Saturday. Nor the English Embassy last 
evening. The reception was very pleasant, but no 
crowd — only a few ladies, all in black silk and tarleton 
mixed, and few ornaments. The gentlemen don't wear 
mourning, except black gloves when they visit any K. K. 
person. Do you think I would wear crape for George 
V. of Hanover ? At any rate, nobody else does. Beacons- 
field was there, looking old, bent and ugly; Salisbury 
unusually handsome and pleasant to behold ; Andrassy, 
older and more gipsy-chief -like than when I saw him in 
Vienna; Waddington, fair and smiling; and finally 
Mehemet AH Pasha, the Turk from Magdeburg, whom 
everybody was anxious to see. He was simple, dignified, 
and with a face full of character. Lady Odo was very 
gracious, apologized for forgetting your absence, and said, 
'I have so many things to think of these days, that I 
get quite bewildered.' Helmholz was there, and Gneist, 
who remembered me. All the Legations . . . were 
represented, and many of the Imperial Officials. Princess 

* Kurt von Schlozer, then German Minister at Washington. 




EMPEROR WILLIAM I. AND PRINCE BISMARCK 



SUNSET 281 

Bismarck and daughter came, but not the Prince. . . . 
Tea and ices were handed around, and there was a cold 
supper in the dining hall, at which all the ladies took 
seats. About 11 Beaconsfield slowly hobbled out, with- 
out looking to the right or left, or taking leave, so far 
as I could see. I had a long and delightful chat with v. 
Philipsborn, ass't Minister to Bulow, about Goethe, and 
also some talk again with Helmholz. They had all 
heard, somehow, of Bunsen's dinner to me on Saturday. 
(By the bye, I forgot to tell you that I didn't forget it!) 
Even Comte de St. Vallier told me that Waddington 
was delighted." 

As indicated in one of the foregoing letters, it was 
General Grant's intention to visit Berlin on his trip 
around the world. This plan was a source of no small 
embarrassment to the Minister of the United States. 
He was still new in his office, and under the peculiar cir- 
cumstances prevailing just at that time the question of 
etiquette was a very - difficult one. The Emperor's ill- 
health did not permit him to receive General Grant, 
while the presence at Berlin of the distinguished repre- 
sentatives of the European Powers, who possessed the 
right of official precedence, required an extraordinary 
amount of tact, in order to avoid any occasion for offense. 
Bayard Taylor had been presented to all the Princes of 
the Imperial House before the second attempt on the 
Emperor's life. But he had not yet been received by 
the Empress, who was at Baden-Baden in May, and con- 
sequently not by the Crown Princess. So that neither 
could I be presented at Court, which made it impossible 
for me to introduce Mrs. Grant, who accompanied the 
General. In what manner the American Minister, my 
husband, succeeded in solving these complicated diffi- 



282 



ON TWO CONTINENTS 



culties may be seen from the following letters, which 
begin with a wail: 

"Wednesday evening, June 19, 1878. 

"Alas! — and alas! — and alas! No letter from you 
since Monday morning, and to-day — but how can I tell 
everything at once? This morning there came a letter 
from Minister Welch, in London, saying that he had given 
to a family whom he don't know very well a letter of 
introduction to me, and asking for all sorts of statistical 
information which his own Secretaries might just as well 
get for him ; but that isn't it! Then came another German 
naturalization case, not hard to manage; and that isn't 
it, either! Then a letter from the U.-S. Legation at the 
Hague, with the notice, that — but let me pause and 
recover myself! — that (I really don't know how to break 
the news to you gradually) — that, yet how can I say it? 
— that, well, I suppose it must be said — that — that — that 
General and Mrs. Grant will arrive here early next week, 
probably on Wednesday evening. I telegraphed at once 
to the Hague, asking if I should secure quarters, Berlin 
being so crowded, and how long the Ex-Pres't. would 
stay. The answer has just come : ' Gen. Grant's courier 
will secure quarters; thanks for your dispatch.' So I 
am no wiser than I was before; and now, with Congress 
in session, the Emperor evidently worse than reported, 
and all sorts of things going on, what am I to do ? . . . 
Of course I can't think of going to Friedrichroda now, 
and the question is, whether it wouldn't be well for you to 
come here and help Mrs. G. Pray think it over, and I'll 
write or telegraph to you by Saturday, if I learn anything 
more." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
"Thursday evening, June 20, 1878. 

" I called this morning on Ceremonienmeister v. Roder, 
who was out; but he returned the call in an hour. He 
leaves to-morrow, and could only give me good advice 



SUNSET 283 

about Gen. Grant. He thinks the Empress will not 
receive, and that the official presentations will be con- 
fined to the Crown-Prince, Pr. Fr. Carl, and Bismarck. 
. . . This afternoon Everett and I drove in the Thier- 
garten. We passed an empty Royal equipage, and 
soon afterward came the Empress, walking with an 
Adjutant, alone. She moved very slowly and feebly, 
and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. There was some- 
thing inexpressibly sad and dejected in her appearance, 
and it touched me profoundly. 

"Last night, we went together to Count Carolyi's. 
It was really delightful ; and I cannot yet explain the dif- 
ference of atmosphere and spirit between his reception 
and Lord Odo's, since the company was nearly the same. 
I made a slight faux pas in following Everett's advice 
to ask Waddington to introduce me to Beaconsfield 
(since Lord Odo had not arrived). Waddington, in the 
gentlest and politest way, said that he would do it with 
pleasure, a little later, if no one better authorized should 
be present. So I went to Carolyi, who presented me at 
once, as he had the right to do, and Beaconsfield received 
me in a conventionally friendly way. I said to him : ' It 
is the author, not less than the statesman, whom I 
desire to know.' He looked at me, and asked 'Why?' 
I answered : ' Because I am much more an author than 
a statesman.' Then he suddenly said : ' Are you Bayard- 
Taylor ? ' ' Yes. ' ' Shake hands again ! ' he exclaimed, with 
something almost like enthusiasm in so old an Israelite; 
' I have known you for years through your works ! ' He 
was excessively cordial thenceforth, but oh! — how fear- 
fully ugly he has become! Red-edged, watery eyes 
(one blind, they say), protruding under-lip, hooked nose, 
sallow, puffy skin, and the general aspect of a hungry 
vulture, it amazes me to think of this man's history. 
I spoke to him about his works and we got on capitally 
together ; then I presented Everett and Coleman. 

" Lord Odo, at my request, introduced me to the Mar- 



284 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

quis of Salisbury. He is tall, large and rather handsome, 
but none too intellectual. I spoke of the pleasant tem- 
perature prevailing, and hoped he liked it. ' It's getting 
to be altogether too hot,' he said; and something in his 
tone made me remark : ' I speak of the external air, not of 
the temperature inside certain walls.' He looked startled 
a moment, and then we both burst into hearty laughter. 
Then I told him that, as the representative of a power 
nowise concerned in the Congress, I was neither curious 
nor impatient. He began to protest : ' Oh, I assure you 
we are all cool, oh, very cool indeed.' 'Are you?' said 
I ; he roared again, and somebody came up and interrupted 
the conversation. Then I met Countess Marie v. Bis- 
marck, who said : ' I have seen you already. ' I answered : 
'I am sure I have not had the honor.' 'I was looking 
out of the back-window,' she said, ' and I saw you walking 
in the garden with papa. He told me who it was, and 
said he had such a pleasant walk with you.' Schlozer 
then came up, and insisted on presenting me to a lady 
who was possessed to make my acquaintance — the 
Countess Oriolla. And who do you think she is? Why, 
the daughter of Bettina, and the sister of Gisela!* 

"I had quite a talk with Mehemet Ali Pasha, whom 
I heartily like, met Count de Launay, Count Corti, and 
had a little conversation with Andrassy, who is a gipsy- 
chief in feature, if ever there was one. ... It was, 
on the whole, a free, cordial, altogether pleasant recep- 
tion, and I felt all the better for it. . . . You will 
understand, of course, that I can't possibly come on 
Saturday. Count St. Vallier invites me to meet the 
Congress at g% that evening. ... I must wait until 
Gen. Grant's departure, and then I'll come at any time, in 
the middle of the week, probably. No more business has 
turned up for two days past, and the only dispatch from 
Washington (by the bag, to-day) says 'Your dispatches 
are read with much interest.' Now, in regard to your 

* Hermann Grimm's wife. j 



SUNSET 285 

coming here, I am still in doubt. ... If I were 
certain that you would need no Court presentations, 
I should say ' come!' — and I'll try to ascertain to-morrow." 

"June 21, 1878. 

"I have just come from Count Eulenburg, Hofmar- 
schall to the Crown-Prince. I have pretty much decided 
what I can and can't do. Thus stands the case : Grant's 
courier has engaged quarters for him at the Kaiserhof, 
so no need of my offering ours. Birney (U. S. Minister 
at the Hague) writes that G. will arrive here Wednesday. 
I shall go to Stendal (100 kilom.) to meet him, have my 
carriage at the station to take him to Kaiserhof, and 
afterwards at his and Mrs. G's disposal, while they are 
here. Count E. thanked me for letting him know at 
once, says he will arrange everything with me, that the 
Crown-Prince will receive Grant at once, but the Empress 
most probably not. 

"I have arranged that Grant and his wife shall have 
an opportunity to receive all the Americans here, at the 
Legation, on a fixed evening, with tea, ices and cakes for 
refreshments. Everyone seems to think this will be 
proper, then, I shall give no formal, official dinner (which 
would involve no end of trouble, questions of etiquette 
and expense) , but shall pick out a select company of about 
a dozen, all of whom speak English. . . . That is — 
I shall wait until Grant comes, and propose it to him. 
. . . Grant will stay about six days; so, if he wishes 
to see the High-Mightinesses of the Congress, I have only 
to take him to the receptions of Lord Odo, Carolyi and 
St. Vallier. He will there informally meet with every- 
body, and I am sure it will be much more agreeable to 
him. 

"This leaves you tolerably free to act as you please. 
You can either come, preside at the American reception, 
support Mrs. Grant at the dinner (no other ladies!) and 
appear once at each of the evening receptions while they 



286 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

are here, or — you can stay away, on account of your 
health. . . . But you need not decide before Monday. 
I will telegraph whenever anything turns up to indicate 
what is best." 

"June 22, 1878. 

"I have half an hour before dressing for Delbruck's 
dinner, and sit down to send you something more. Yester- 
day evening I drove to Bunsens, and sat an hour in the 
garden with them. . . . Bunsen is simply charming. 
As I was going away, I begged a rose from Frau v. B. 
and she gave me 3 or 4 dark-red Persian blossoms, which 
have kept the Legation sweet all day. This morning, 
just after I wrote to you, Curtius called. He asked par- 
ticularly after you and your mother, and said that if 
Grant should care to see the Olympian antiquities, and 
I would let him know, he would be on hand to explain. 
(Another good arrangement!) This afternoon I have 
punctually returned all necessary calls, including an hour 
with Lindau, whom I shall see again to-night at the soiree 
of Comte de St. Vallier. He was very cordial, and is an 
excellent Kamerad." 

"American Legation, Berlin, 
"Sunday morning, June 23, 1878. 

"I may as well begin now to write to you, as the 
morning mail brings no official business which I need 
attend to. The day is thoroughly bright and hot, and 
I shall presently take a walk in the shadiest part of the 
Thiergarten. The dinner, yesterday, was very pleasant. 
. . . After dinner, I took Schlozer to drive an hour in 
the Thiergarten, and finally went to the French Embassy 
about ten. ... St. Vallier presented me to Count 
Nesselrode, who said that the Empress was quite anxious 
to see me, and might send me word to appear on Monday, 
at half past one. At any rate, he advised me to be ready 
for a summons. If it happens so, I shall then instantly 
apply for presentation to the Crown-Princess. I spoke 
particularly to St. Vallier, Lord Odo and Carolyi about 



SUNSET 287 

Grant's coming, and secured the most pressing invitation 
from each one for him and Mrs. Grant to attend the 
diplomatic soirees. Lord Odo commissioned me to say- 
that he would be ' proud and honored.' He was markedly- 
cordial, perhaps because the Marquis of Salisbury received 
me so heartily. I asked the latter : ' Do you find the 
temperature any better?' and he laughed as loudly as 
I often do. We were just getting into a cheery talk, 
when Nothomb came and asked me to present him — 
which I did. I also made the acquaintance of Prince 
Hohenlohe, who is small, quiet-mannered and agreeable. 
Counts Corti and De Launay were especially friendly — 
in fact, I felt for the first time that I was received on the 
footing of familiar acquaintanceship, and midnight came 
surprisingly quick. Lord Odo and St. Vallier both said 
that it would be very difficult for me, just now, to give 
Grant a satisfactory dinner, and no one would expect me to 
do it. I also spoke to Philipsborn about Grant seeing 
Bismarck, and he said that Bulow would arrange every- 
thing for me. 

"There! — you see that I have prepared for all that can 
be done, and (I think) in the simplest and best way. ' ' 

"Tuesday morning, June 25, 1878. 
"As there is no business whatever on hand, I may as 
well write a line this morning. ... As soon as I 
sent off the letter (last evening) I lay down on the sofa, 
and slept so soundly that Harris could hardly get me 
awake at 9^. There was a small but pleasant party at 
Lord Odo's. Count Nesselrode said that the Empress 
could not receive me yesterday because the Count of 
Flanders came unexpectedly. I said to Beaconsfield: 
'I don't know whether you remember me?' and he an- 
swered: 'Yes I do; you are sans peur et sans reproche!' 
The Marquis of Salisbury came up, exclaiming: 'It's 
getting hotter and hotter,' and burst into his usual laugh. 
I presented the Baroness Jauru to Waddington, and the 



288 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Japanese Minister to Beaconsfield — in fact, it's rather 
astonishing that I am constantly asked to be a sort of 
Master of Ceremonies. . . . Lady Odo appeared in 
white; all the others in black. The mourning is slowly 
wearing off. I only stayed an hour, came home and 
slept 8 hours, and am still sleepy this morning! But I 
think it is a good sign. Last night Grant telegraphed 
that he would be 'most happy' to meet me at Stendal. 
Coleman will go with me, and perhaps J. R. Young. 
U. S. G. has excellent quarters at the Kaiserhof — 4 rooms 
on the 1st floor. If no more work comes in I shall get 
along very well." 

"Wednesday morning, June 26, 1878. 

" I have just received your yesterday's letter, and must 
honestly confess that I am glad you are coming. I do 
begin to feel a little tired, having so much on my shoulders, 
and hardly know what I shall do with Mrs. Grant without 
your help. . . . Coleman had symptoms of malaria 
fever yesterday, and I don't feel sure of him any longer, 
you can therefore easily understand that the visit may 
turn out to be a little too much for me. 

" I had a charming dinner with Rodenberg last evening 
— Auerbach, Max Maria v. Weber, Etienne of the Wiener 
Freie Presse, Kruse of the Kolnische Zietung and Abel 
of the London Times. 

"Afterwards I went to Bunsen's to tea, finding every- 
body in the garden, and stayed until 11. I was talking 
with Falk, saying goodbye to him alone, in a quiet path, 
holding his hand and exclaiming: "Stehen Sie fest und 
Harren Sie aus!"* when Lasker came up and took my 
other hand, and for a moment we stood like the three 
men of Grutli.f It was really a picturesque meeting. 

*" Stand firm and persevere!" 

fThis little incident refers to struggles which went on at this period 
in the internal affairs of Germany. Falk was the Minister famous 
in the Kulturkampf , whose position had been shaken lately by Bis- 
marck's unexpected veering toward "Canossa." Lasker was one of 
the leaders of the National Liberals in the German Parliament. 



SUNSET 289 

I like Falk very much. Helmholz was also there, and 
lots of other famous people. I took Waddington aside, 
and consulted him about Grant. He said promptly: 
' Don't try to give a dinner — it will be very difficult, and 
the etiquette will cause you trouble, i" could not invite 
the Diplomatic Corps to the dinner I gave Gen. Grant 
in Paris, for that reason.' Then I told him about my 
idea of a breakfast, and he said : ' That will do ; you can 
manage that ; but if you have Bulow, he takes precedence.' 
I said : ' suppose I give Bulow my place? ' ' Ah,' he cried ; 
'that will make everything right!' 'Would you come?' 
I asked. 'Certainly,' said he, 'if it is a day when the 
Congress doesn't meet: I can do what I please, and I 
should certainly raise no point of etiquette.' 

"This is great comfort to me, as you may imagine. 
When I came home, I found that Count Eulenburg and 
Herr v. Mohl* had been here, the former very anxious 
to see me; so I drove to the palace at 9 J this morning 
and saw him. Everything is nicely arranged. The 
Crown-Prince will receive Grant (with me) to-morrow, 
and give him (also with me) a dinner at Potsdam on 
Friday. I am to write to the Countess Bruhl about Mrs. 
Grant. The Crown-Princess knows that I am waiting 
on the Empress, yet will receive me before dinner. I 
explained your absence thoroughly, and made it all 
right with the Hohen Herrschaften. You can come, all 
the same, and be here unofficially." 

My husband's confession that he felt "a little tired" 
meant more than his words conveyed. Next day I 
received a telegram from him: "Be sure and come to- 
morrow, I need you." I hurried my departure as much 
as possible, and arriving in Berlin Friday evening, was 
received at the station by our two Secretaries of the 
Legation. I learned that my husband had been seriously 

♦Secretary of the Empress, formerly German Consul at Cincinnati. 



2 9 o ON TWO CONTINENTS 

ill two days before, but that his physician had so far 
restored him as to enable him to meet General Grant 
at Stendal, and also to fulfil his other duties. Mr. 
Everett stayed with me about half an hour, until Taylor 
returned from the dinner at Potsdam. He entered the 
room, with a light overcoat thrown across his shoulders, 
a bouquet in his buttonhole, pale, but in a mood of pleas- 
urable excitement. Almost his first words were, "I am 
so glad, I have won my first diplomatic victory!" Then 
he told us that von Billow had whispered to him during 
the dinner: "Everything shall be settled according to 
your wishes!"* Then he related how he had come by 
the bouquet in his buttonhole. After the close of the 
dinner he turned to the table and took a red verbena 
from one of the flower centrepieces, when he noticed that 
the Crown Prince and Princess were watching him from 
the opposite side. He bowed and remarked, "I confess 
that this is theft, but I never see flowers that they do not 
tempt me." Both smiled, and the Crown Prince replied, 
"Take as many as you like." 

The following morning I called on Mrs. Grant and 
offered her my services. The day was filled with engage- 
ments, and in the evening we gave a large reception, to 
which all the Americans in Berlin had been invited. The 
comparatively small apartment (we were still in our tem- 
porary quarters) was hardly able to contain the number 
of guests, and all of course wished to be introduced to 
General and Mrs. Grant, and to shake hands with them. 
The former declined any other kind of entertainment, 
and accepted only a family dinner at our solicitation. 

*The matter in question was the naturalisation case mentioned on 
page 277. 



SUNSET 291 

He recognised the state of affairs, and was far too informal 
and republican in his tastes to be willing to cause any 
inconvenience to the representative of his country. At 
his request we invited to our little dinner, beside the 
guests of honour, only the two Secretaries of Legation 
and the American Consul-General with his wife. Taylor 
had in the meantime almost recovered from his indis- 
position and was at his best in the character of an amiable 
host. As a special compliment to the General he had 
composed the following amusing menu: 

SOUP 

Hasty Plate, d la Win Field. 

FISH 

Saumon du Mississippi, d la Vicksburg. 

ENTREE 

Sweetbreads, d la Appomatox (furnished to the hungry 

Rebels) 

ROAST 

Beef Americain douteux. 

ICES 

(To counteract the warmth of the reception in Berlin.) 

FRUITS 

Reconnaissants, d la White House. 

COFFEE 

Cordial de Cedarcroft. 

Aside from the dinner given by the Crown Prince, the 
official courtesies accorded to the ex-President and 
celebrated commander-in-chief were necessarily con- 
fined to a review of several divisions of the army that 
was held in his honour outside of the city. The German 
officers present were rather astonished to see General 



292 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Grant appear in civilian clothes; as a matter of fact, 
simple republican that he was, he had left his uniform at 
home! On the following day Prince Bismarck gave him 
a dinner, with twenty invited guests, to which the Amer- 
ican Minister and wife were also bidden. Mrs. Grant 
had the seat of honour at the great chancellor's right; I 
was placed at his left, while the Princess sat opposite, 
between the General and Bayard Taylor. As this was 
not an official affair, there was an utter absence of any 
restraint not dictated by good taste, and conversation 
was informal. At first, indeed, I felt oppressed by the 
weight of Bismarck's personality, but I soon gained 
an insight into his human character when he assured 
me that he had never met with a more attractive, amiable 
man than my husband. I judged from this that he 
could be a man like other men. During the dinner I 
made the acquaintance of Tyras ; the immense beast sud- 
denly thrust his large head between myself and my 
neighbour on the left, and permitted me to caress him, 
a proceeding which was said to be a great favour on his 
part. 

Coffee was served in the drawing-room while most of 
the guests stood about in groups. The Chancellor and 
General Grant were the only ones who smoked. They 
sat side by side in two armchairs, the former with his long 
pipe, the latter with his cigar, and chatted together as 
peacefully as if there had never been any battles or con- 
flicts, never any victories illustrious in history. 

After the dinner in the Chancellor's palace we drove 
with General and Mrs. Grant to the English Embassy, 
where numerous guests were already assembled. Lord 
and Lady Odo Russell received us with great cordiality 



SUNSET 293 

and a few interesting hours passed very quickly. Among 
the diplomats who were introduced to me, the figure of 
Lord Beaconsfield stands before my eyes after all these 
years as the most eminent personality. He was a dis- 
tinguished man, if only for the reason that he held the 
winning cards in the Congress; but what struck me 
most was the studied nonchalance, the aristocratic self- 
confidence that he showed. And in truth he had reason 
to feel himself superior to his colleagues ; for he had the 
English-Turkish treaty in his pocket, which gave Cyprus 
to England, and which he played as a trump card in the 
Congress a few days later. 

This was doomed to be the only occasion when I 
appeared in the diplomatic circle in Berlin. A noted 
physician, formerly attached to the Grand Duke of 
Tuscany, said to me once in Rome: "Life is a comedy 
at first, later it becomes a drama, and finally a tragedy." 
The tragedy had begun for us, without our being as yet 
conscious of the fact. 

General and Mrs. Grant departed on July 3d, and after 
the celebration of the Fourth, Taylor accompanied me 
to Friedrichroda, in order to seek a much-needed rest. 
Scarcely had he recuperated somewhat in the aromatic 
forest air when his exaggerated conscientiousness took 
fright at the idea that he was neglecting his duties in 
staying away from his post. In vain both Secretaries, 
whom he had left in charge of the Legation during his 
absence, wrote to him that everything was going on 
smoothly, and that no business requiring the Minister's 
presence had come in. A feeling of unrest possessed 
him, he could not settle down quietly, but made repeated 
trips between the Thuringian Forest and Berlin during 



294 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

the following month ; his physical condition in the mean- 
time was sometimes better, sometimes worse. In August 
Berthold Auerbach came to Friedrichroda, and his 
presence seemed to have a. cheering influence upon my 
husband. During the short time that the genial author 
stayed we saw him daily. He showed us the most 
amiable side of his nature, was companionable, humor- 
ous and full of interest in the most manifold intellectual 
topics. He made many complimentary remarks to me 
about my husband and my married life. One of his 
observations concerning the former was to the effect: 
"Although endowed with an unbridled imagination, that 
tempts him to kick over the traces, he is always the aris- 
tocratic gentleman, who behaves like a lord." He was 
greatly struck by the change in Taylor's appearance, and 
seriously advised me to insist upon a medical consultation 
on our return to Berlin. In the middle of August, how- 
ever, my husband's health appeared to take a sudden 
decided turn for the better, so that he declared his vaca- 
tion to be at an end, and went back to Berlin to stay. 

Since the close of the Congress society had been abso- 
lutely dead in the capital, and Taylor might have enjoyed 
a temporary reprieve, if the wedding festivities of the 
eldest daughter of Prince Friedrich Karl with Prince 
Henry of Orange had not intervened. The nuptials were 
celebrated on August 24th in Potsdam, and all the mem- 
bers of the diplomatic corps, who happened to be in Berlin 
at the time, were required to be present. It was gener- 
ally known that the marriage had been arranged for 
political reasons. As the aged King of Holland was a 
childless widower, and no one then dreamed of his taking 
a second wife, Prince Henry was heir apparent. His 



SUNSET 295 

years were far in advance of those of his fiancee, and she 
was popularly supposed to have yielded an unwilling 
consent. My husband wrote to me concerning the pre- 
liminary festivities, which consisted in a gala performance 
at the Royal Opera , as follows: 

"August 24, 1878. 
■ "I drove in the Thiergarten, called on Boyesen, dined 
heartily at 5^, and at 7 J found myself on the front seat 
of a proscenium box, beside Counts Benomar and De 
Launay, with Rochussen, Prollius and Deering — who is 
now charge — behind us. . . . Prince Fred. Carl and 
the Crown-Prince of Holland sat opposite, but the ladies 
in the Royal box were so far away, that, having no opera 
glass I couldn't make them out. The operetta and ballet 
were very lively and pleasant. It lasted 3 hours, and I 
got to bed at 11, a little tired. ... I shall take 
Carl with me this evening to Potsdam. The ceremonies 
commence at 7, and the understanding among the Diplo- 
mats last night was that they would last about 2\ hours, 
and that we shall not stand still all the time. We shall 
get a fine supper and be sent back about 11 by a special 
train. I am quite sure I can stand that much without 
any damage, and after having appeared at the Opera, I 
can't now well stay away." 

On the day after the marriage I received a long letter 
from my husband. With the exception of a few brief 
lines, this was the last one that he wrote to me. It runs 
thus: 

"Sunday, 11 a. m., Aug. 25, 1878. 

"A great deal has taken place in the last 24 hours, and I 
must try to give you a tolerable report of it. Fortunately, 
not a single letter has come this morning, and nobody 
has called; so after sleeping late, breakfasting heartily, 
reading all the papers, and taking a Russian bath, I find 
myself in a comfortable mood for writing. It has been 



296 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

raining steadily since yesterday afternoon, although now 
there are signs of clearing. The temperature is just right, 
and the air soft and fresh. 

" Friday evening, just as I had put on my hat to drive 
to the opera, came three men in a state of great haste 
and excitement. One stated in German that he had 
arrested the other, who was an American: the third was 
a frightened friend of the second. The first wanted to 
know if I would become security for the prisoner, who 
was charged with violating some patent law; his name 

was C . He offered me his letter of credit, but I told 

him that it was just as good security for the German 
authorities, if genuine; that I must first be sure of his 
Americanship ; that all the offices were already closed; 
and finally, that I was going to a festival by the invitation 
of the Government, and they must come again in the 
morning. 

"Yesterday forenoon, however, only one person came 

— a young Dr. D , of Boston, handsome, refined and 

prepossessing. He was the third, who had called the 

night before. He told me that Mr. C was a great 

manufacturer of Worcester, Mass., worth over $2,000,000. 

The inventor of the celebrated "C loom," and an 

intimate friend of Ward the sculptor, and many other 
artists. A manufacturing firm in Chemnitz had been 
using his looms under a contract to pay a certain royalty. 
As they did not pay, C went to Chemnitz and dis- 
covered that they were unlawfully manufacturing his 
looms themselves. He brought suit against them, and 
out of revenge they had him arrested through a tele- 
graphic dispatch from the Staatsanwalt, charging him 
with violation of the German patent laws! The case 
seemed to be so serious that I sent Coleman off with 

Dr. D to look into it. Meanwhile I received four 

Americans, one of whom — Judge W of Penn'a — 

brought me a letter of introduction from Evarts. He 
and Judge P of Illinois, are Delegates to the Prison 



SUNSET 297 

Reform Convention at Stockholm, and want to see the 
prisons here. I have thought it necessary to invite them 
to a plain dinner here, to-day, and everything is arranged. 
Johanna and Carl are properly instructed, and I have 
engaged Auguste to wash the only 6 silver knives and 
forks between each course.* . . . The menu is: 
soup, salmon and potatoes, chops and tomatoes, par- 
tridge and peas, auflauf, bread and cheese; and it will 
be a sumptuous affair for those plain Pennsylvanians. 

"Well — Coleman came back, having visited C in 

the prison, at the Police Headquarters. C had been 

all night there, was alarmed, desperate and almost sick. 
We discussed what were best to be done, finally con- 
cocted a fierce dispatch to the Am. Consul at Chemnitz, 
took the carriage and drove again to the police. At 

first the subordinates refused to let me see C , as no 

one was there who had requisite authority. I persisted, 
called for the dispatch which occasioned his arrest, pointed 
out its flimsy character, asked a few embarrassing ques- 
tions, and succeeded in frightening the whole batch of 

them out of their shoes. C was brought up, looking 

the picture of misery : I only gave him a few encouraging 
words, but took care to shake hands with him in the sight 
of the officials. (To be concluded after what followeth:) 

" When we got back there were only 40 minutes left to 
dine and dress, before starting for Potsdam. I invited 
Coleman, although there was nothing but one carp, and 
he said he did not like carp ! I gave him the one plate of 
soup and took beef-tea myself. Fortunately the carp 
was enormous, fresh and admirably cooked ; so I ate one- 
third and he two-thirds, saying that he must have mis- 
taken some other fish for carp, heretofore. . . . 
There were 300 guests at the station: it was raining, and 
all was confusion. I finally found a place with two 
gentlemen who proved to be the Pres't. of the Dutch 

* The silver had been locked up during Taylor's frequent absences, 
and the key mislaid or lost. 



298 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

Chamber of Deputies and the Mexican Secretary of Lega- 
tion. Count de Launay, as the only Ambassador pres- 
ent, was treated with the greatest obsequiousness, while 
the rest of us Ministers were allowed to shift for ourselves. 
I didn't believe that Carl could get along with us, but 
when we reached Wildpark there he was at the door, and 
he afterwards shoved aside Secretaries and Charges to 
get me a back carriage seat. 

"We reached the Palace at 6 J: the whole court-yard 
was so crowded that I and my companions would have 
had much embarrassment without Carl's help. On 
entering the Palace there was a blaze of light everywhere, 
and a perfect tangle of people. I was first struck by the 
giant guardsmen, in the uniform of the last century : what 
magnificent men they are! From 6 to 7 feet high, all 
strongly built, and all with handsome faces, I could 
scarcely look at anybody else. Next to them I was 
attracted by the Pages,* boys of 14 to 17, in mediaeval 
costumes of scarlet and silver, with black velvet barets 
and white ostrich plumes : there must have been 60 or 70 
of them. In the Jasper hall, an altar and shrine were 
arranged in the centre ; music pealed from an alcove ; the 
increasing crowd was dazzling with color and jewels. 
. . . Two rows of Pages kept the central space open 
for the Royal party, and a lot of Maitres de Ceremonies 

— at the head of them an old, fussy, foolish Baron R , 

gave the guests their places. R moved me three 

times, and then I said : ' I shall be obliged if you will at 
last give me a place where I can stay!' After that he 
was wonderfully polite. I was the only person present 
in simple black and white, and that ought to have dis- 
tinguished me. Rudhart, I found, is my predecessor in 
the diplomatic corps ; so, by following him, I easily kept 

in the right place. The Princess R was beside me, 

and complained bitterly of fatigue before the ceremony 

* Sons of noble families who are educated in an exclusive college 
at the cost of the Prussian Government. 



SUNSET 299 

began. I talked a good deal in order to make her out. 
This is the result — amiable, tolerably natural, smart yet 
flippant, secretly haughty yet desirous not .to seem so 
openly, and on the whole slightly more interesting and 
agreeable than the average of Court ladies. 

"The wedding was announced for 7 o'clock, and the 
Royal party was punctual. Trumpets proclaimed the 
approach: four clergymen in black basilicas (or dal- 
maticas, I don't know which!) waited near the door; and 
there was a moment of solemn and stately expectation. 
Gorgeous lackeys first appeared ; then the Marshall, Prince 
of Salm-Something, carrying a high stick tipped with 
silver; then the two official cavaliers of the bride, two 
Pages, and the bridal couple. And a singular looking 
pair they were! She . . . walking with bent head, 
eyes fixed on the floor, and a deep flush over face and 
neck; he like a little, amiable, refined, withered, worn- 
out beau of sixty, with pleasant but dilapidated features 
and uncertain legs. Behind the Princess, divided by her 
train, walked a Prussian and a Dutch Dragoness of Cere- 
monies — then about 15 feet in the rear, 4 bridesmaids, 
carrying the end of the silver brocade train spread out 
like a peacock's tail. But they were charming — each face 
and form lovely as a picture, and taking lovelier groupings 
with every step. I have never seen anything more 
beautiful. The bride wore the small crown of a Princess 
on the very top of her hair; but it was made of 100 very 
large diamonds, and seemed to rain light over her. She 
also wore the old crown diamonds as a stomacher. 

"After the pair came a lot of high H of -Char gen, two 
more Pages, then the King of Holland and the Crown- 
Princess, followed by their Court officials. The same 
order marked each pair, and there were always grand 
lackeys and pages between. The succeeding pairs were: 
the Crown-Prince with Princess Friedrich Karl; Prince 
Fr. Karl and the Grand Duchess of Weimar ; Prince Karl 
of Prussia and £>&-Duchess of Oldenburg; Prince Fred- 



3oo ON TWO CONTINENTS 

erick of Holland with Princess Albrecht; the Grand- 
Duke of Weimar with his daughter-in-law; the Duke 
of Connaught with his bride; and the Grand Duke of 
Oldenburg with the Erfr-Princess of Meiningen. Before 
the Crown-Prince went his four youngest children, three 
small girls and one boy, in pale blue and silver, with little 
bridal bouquets. They were half frightened, but alto- 
gether beautiful, and it was pleasant to see how the whole 
company bowed twice as low to them as to the High- 
mighty persons. I'm sure I did it most willingly. The 
slow and stately march of the procession, the strains of 
the music, the dazzle of torches and wax-lights and the 
splendor of color, made a most impressive picture, 
and I longed intensely for you and Lilian to enjoy 
it with me. 

"There was a hymn and a short address by the clergy- 
man, and then the marriage ceremony, the first part of 
which requires the bridegroom to present the bride with 
the Bible* — a thing I never saw before. At the exact 
moment when they gave each other the rings, there was 
a distant, sullen peal of thunder — as I thought; but it 
was repeated every ten seconds, the orchestra fell into a 
new tempo, and the booming of the cannon became part 
of the music thenceforth to the end. After the blessing, 
the Hallelujah Chorus was sung with the grandest effect 
and then the procession returned in the same order to 
the grotto, or Hall of shells, to receive the Defile. The 

Diplomatic Corps went first: while the old, fussy R 

was mustering us, somebody behind me said : ' Good even- 
ing ! ' Not supposing it was meant for me I did not turn ; 
but the greeting was repeated, and I felt a slight punch 
in the side. It was the Erb-Prinz of Weimar! — who 
laughed as if he had perpetrated a good joke. Presently 
somebody bowed so low I could hardly see his face, and 
said : ' Excellenz, I am very glad to see you here.' It was 

*This custom and the "Fackeltanz," described further on, are cere- 
monies observed at the marriage of every member of the Royal house 
of Hohenzollern. 



SUNSET 301 

M v. W ,* who had to fall back and make way 

for us, but not before he had whispered : 'Be sure and 
come to Gotha in the winter: we shall make it very 
pleasant for you.' 

"There were so few Ministers that I was about the 
tenth in the Defile. . . . The Royal party sat on a 
dais, along one side of the grand hall. All the central 
space was clear, and the three other sides were crammed 
with guests, Court officials, Pages, with the giant guards 
looming up in the background, and the horns and trum- 
pets blowing. Following Rudhart, I caught his step 
at the door and walked rapidly in time with him and the 
music. Each faced the bridal couple rapidly, bowed 
profoundly, wheeled and walked two or three steps, faced 
the King of Holland and Crown-Princess, bowed ; walked 
on and gave the third and last bow to the Crown-Prince. 
. . . It was all over in half a minute, and I had no 
time to feel embarrassed. All the rest of the company 
followed us, according to precedence, but we hurried 
upstairs to find our places at the supper-table. Mine 
was between Rudhart and Arapoff, and opposite Deering, 
so I got along very well. . . . The supper lasted, I 
should think, about f of an hour, and it was not particu- 
larly good, except the single glasses of Johannisberger 
and Lafitte. I stole three tea-roses, rather withered, cut 
a white bridal button-hole bouquet from a bon-bon and 
wore it, and brought away the gorgeous menu for your 
collection. Also, a bon-bon, with photograph of Crown- 
Prince for Lilian. As every one had a chair, the supper 
was a great rest, and the accompanying music was superb. 
At the royal table, on the platform, a Page stood behind 
each chair, and the effect of color was very fine. 

"After supper we returned to the jasper hall, took our 
former places, and the Fackeltanz began. The shrine 
and altar had been meanwhile removed and a raised 
platform, long enough to accommodate the whole Royal 

*Court Marshall of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. 



3 o2 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

company, substituted; ... It was not at all what 
I supposed, but very stately, very impressive — in fact, 

beautiful. I stood beside the Princess B v. C (I 

conversed only with Princesses!), who was very amiable, 
and told me all I needed to know, about the personages. 
. . . First, there was a grand blast of music ; then the 
pages, high lackeys, etc., cleared a circular space of 50 feet 
diameter in the hall, the giant guardsmen towered behind, 
and the music played outside an arched entrance. The 
ministers entered, in full uniform — black coats almost 
buried under gold embroidery, and white trousers — 
each bearing a large wax-light, 3 or 4 feet long with a 
thick wick, sending forth a strong white flame, and a sort 
of holder of crystal and gold. There were 12, the places 
of Bismarck, Falk and one other being filled by Generals : 
they entered two by two, but on reaching the royal dais 
formed in single file and bowed to the High-mighty ones, 
then advanced and stood on the right, just before me. 
The bride and groom descended, bowed gravely to the 
high ones, and followed the torch-bearing ministers in a 
slow, stately promenade around the circle. On reaching 
the platform, they bowed again, while the ministers 
marched past, and took up their former station on the 
right. The groom went up on the platform and sat 
down, the King of Holland came down, took the bride's 
hand, and the march around the circle began. More 
deep bows and courtesies, the Crown-Prince came down 
and the whole thing was repeated, the respective Court- 
officials and Pages following the pair each time. It was 
more like a minuet than anything else — grave, stately 
walking, keeping time to the music, and slow, majestic 
salutations. The circuit was made about 20 times, before 
the bride had walked with all the persons who had the 
right, although towards the close, she took two gentlemen 
instead of one. An interesting part of the play, to me, 
was that her bended head and downcast eyes were ex- 
changed, by the most consummately graded changes, for 



SUNSET 303 

uplifted head and proud, flashing eyes. At each round, 
her veil fell a little more backward and her head was 
slightly lifted, her silence slowly turned into words, and 
her expression of timidity and alarm changed into one of 
brightness and joy, so well done that I still think it may 
have been real. But the gradual transition was better 
than anything I ever saw on the stage. . . . Alto- 
gether the Fackeltanz is very imposing and picturesque. 
I should like to see it again. But I shouldn't like to be 
Imperial Minister ! At the end of the dance the procession 
moved out of the hall. Both the Duke and Duchess of 
Weimar recognized me in passing, and gave special greet- 
ings. This was the close of the performance, and it was 
only half -past nine. Carl was ready in the ante-room 
with my coat, and had secured a carriage for 3 or 4 per- 
sons ; so I hurriedly picked up Rangabe and the Mexican 
Secretary, and we got away among the first. It was 
raining hard, and the train did not get off for half an 
hour; but I found a coupe where I could smoke with 
Claparede and two other Charges, and rested comfortably, 
congratulating myself that I had come. . . . 

"I reached home exactly at 11, and found a note from 

Coleman and a telegram from C , both informing me 

that the latter had been liberated within two hours of my 
visit to him in the prison! Early this morning a police- 
officer called upon me, by the order of the Chief (Madai, 
I suppose), and formally read a statement that intelli- 
gence from Chemnitz showed that the charges against 

C were unfounded. I returned my thanks to the 

Department, with the statement that my action was 
based on my conviction that such would prove to be the 
case. . . . 

"Coleman and I are jubilant over the result and 
he now confesses that the wording of the dispatch to 
Chemnitz and my language to the prison officials amazed 

and rather alarmed him. Were I not here, C might 

have been shut up for days. 



3 o4 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

"Monday morning. I really could not get this long 
letter finished yesterday. Boyesen called in the after- 
noon, to get a good deal of literary criticism from me, and 
the four Americans then came for dinner. The 'repast' 
was a perfect success: Carl and Wilhelm made no blun- 
ders, the cooking was perfect, and the guests almost 
shed tears of joy when each saw a big roasted tomato on 
his plate. . . . Every day finds me a little ahead of 
the day before." 

When I arrived in Berlin a few days later my hus- 
band's health appeared to be much improved. Fate 
willed that we should once more cast a hopeful glance 
into the future, and that for a brief month we should 
enjoy life ere our sun set forever. Two friends from 
America added to our happiness at this time: Professor 
Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen and Professor Willard Fiske, 
both of Cornell University. Other cultured and refined 
Americans visited us, so that we enjoyed a pleasant 
society, that reminded us of our New York circle. To 
Boyesen Taylor said one day that he regretted his past 
ill-health principally because it had hitherto prevented 
him from making a beginning upon the Goethe-Schiller 
biography, that had now been waiting so long, and that 
he was consumed with an intense longing to write the first 
chapter. He had indeed made an abortive attempt to 
begin work in the month of July. On the other hand, as 
soon as he felt a little better, in August, the poetic faculty 
had reasserted itself. After a drive from Gotha to 
Friedrichroda, when a storm had destroyed the ancient 
stork's nest on the gable of a peasant house in the little 
village of Wahlwinkel, he conceived and wrote the idyllic 
poem " The Village Stork." His last poem was composed 



SUNSET 305 

a few weeks later, when he was asked to contribute his 
share to the solemnities which the Century Club prepared 
in honour of the dead poet, William Cullen Bryant. He 
consented reluctantly from a sense of duty, for he evi- 
dently felt that he was not equal to the task. When his 
ode, the "Epicedium," was finally finished, he was not 
satisfied with it, but was conscious that he could not 
improve it. Once during his long painful illness — sick 
as he was, he could not be prevailed upon to stay in bed — ■ 
he remarked to me that the idea for a poem had suddenly 
come into his mind. Later, after an inexorable fate had 
torn him from me, I found these verses written upon the 
back of a manuscript: 

" I meant to live — I meant to help and save 
My fellow creatures : but the end has come, 
You are no more my father or my King: 
You are my tyrant, and your face says — Death!" 

They were the sad conclusion of that other verse that he 
had dreamed in the summer of 1877 during his vacation 
in West Virginia: 

"The ship sails true, because the seas are wide." 

The end had been foreshadowed years ago. Accele- 
rated by a rare "fanaticism of duty" (the expression of a 
friend), the organic disease suddenly entered its last 
fatal stage early in October. That inexplicable spiritual 
power, "das Damonische" — as Goethe called it — which 
in his earlier years was manifested in Bayard Taylor as 
his never-resting energy and compelling personal magne- 
tism, had in his later life overmastered, and now undid 
him. He gave up his spirit on December 19, 1878. 



3 o6 ON TWO CONTINENTS 

With his last breath the leaves of my book of remi- 
niscences are closed. A widow to whom marriage offered 
all that her heart could wish no longer possesses a future. 
The past alone is hers. 

"I have remembered that 
Forgotten, when I saw nor understood; 
And now remembered since I know." 

Epimetheus, 
"Prince Deukalion," Act III, Scene 5. 



INDEX 



Airy, Mrs., 44. 

Airy, Sir George, 44, 45, 101. 

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 77, 147, 

216. 
Alexander II., Emperor of Russia, 

129, 132, 134. 
Athens, 52, 53. 
Auerbach, Berthold, 196, 224, 

288, 294. 
August, Duke of Gotha-Alten- 

burg, 14. 

Balearic Islands, 177-179. 
Barrett, Lawrence, 272. 
Beaconsfield, Lord, 277, 280, 281, 

283, 287, 293. 
Berlin, 217, 218, 273, 275-305. 
Bismarck, Prince, 126, 275, 276, 

292. 
Boker, George H., 77, 107, 157. 
Booth, Edwin, 147, 164. 
Bormio, 226, 227. 
Botta, Mrs. Vincenzo (Anne 

Lynch), 77. 
Boyesen, H. H., 304. 
Braun, Emil, 22, 26, 28, 37, 38 

278, 279. 
Braun, Mrs. Emil, 22, 23, 26. 
Browning, Mrs. (Elizabeth Bar- 
rett), 23, 28, 33, 37, 186, 188. 
Browning, Robert, 33, 114. 
Bryant, William Cullen, 70, 266- 

268, 305. 
Bufleb, August, 23, 24, 41, 46, 88, 

252. 
"By-Ways of Europe," 176, 193. 

California, 70, 73, 74. 

Cameron, Senator Simon, 118, 
120, 137—139. 

Gary, Alice and Phoebe, 78. 

"Cedarcroft," 64, 66, 86-88, 98, 
100, 107, 113, 145, 151, 152, 
x 55. JSr-^S. l6 S. t-1*, I 7 2 . 

I98—205, 214, 216—219, 221, 

2 53< 



Centennial Celebration, 260, 262, 

263. 
Church, Frederick, 149. 
Clay, Cassius M., 120, 137-139, 

141. 
Cornell University, 207. 
"Cornwall, Barry," 174. 
Curtis, George William, 66-68, 96 

Dana, Charles, 58. 
Darlington, Dr., 67. 
De Witt, Theodore, 26, 28, 29, 36, 
38. 

"Echo Club," 147, 148, 218. 

Egypt, 251. 

Eichendorff, 237. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 204, 232, 

233. 241. 
Ernest II., Duke of Gotha- 

Altenburg, 8. 
Ernest I., Duke of Saxe-Coburg- 

Gotha, 16, 20. 
Ernest II., Duke of Saxe-Coburg- 

Gotha, 20, 56, 102—107, 143, 

175, 182. 

"Faust" (translation), 150, 151, 
165, 195, 199, 200, 207, 213, 
216, 217, 257. 

Fields, James T., no, 196, 216, 
258. 

Florence, 186-188. 

Frederick, Crown Prince of Ger- 
many, 34, 277, 289, 290, 300, 
301. 

Freytag, Gustav, 182, 195. 

Furness, Dr. William H., 160. 

Gagarin, Princess, 128, 

Garibaldi, 193. 

Gauss, K. F., 40. 

Gevers, Baron, 125. 

Gifford, Sanford R., 77, 147, 149, 

228. 
Goethe, 196, 216, 224, 225, 244. 



307 



3 o8 



INDEX — Continued 



Goethe, Wolf von, 37, 242, 244- 

249. 
Goethe and Schiller, 215, 230, 

232, 236, 242, 258, 270, 304. 
Golz, Count, 125. 
Gortchacow, Prince, 126, 127, 

138, 139. J 4i, 278. 
Gotha, 16, 18, 25, 39, 49, 101, 175, 

194, 223, 229, 230, 250. 
Gould, Dr. B. A., 22. / 
Graham, James Lorimer, 145, 

147, 155, 181, 198, 232. 
Grant, General Ulysses S., 153, 

281-283, 285-293. 
Greeley, Horace, 58, 78, 231. 
Greeley, Mrs., 78, 79. 
Gregorovius, Ferdinand, 189, 204. 

"Hannah Thurston," 108, 145. 
Hansen, Mrs., 4, 5, n, 17, 56, 194, 

223, 229. 
Hansen, Peter Andreas, 3-7, 16, 

21, 44, 56, 101, 164, 194, 223, 

229, 236^ 244, 251. 
Harte, Bret, 200. 
Hicks, Thomas, 77. 
"History of Germany," 232, 236 
Holland, Dr., 266, 267. 
Humboldt, 67. 

"John Godfrey's Fortunes," 

146, 150. 
Johnson, Eastman, 149. 
"Joseph and His Friend," 207. 

Kennett Square, 59, 6o, 90-93, 

100, 162. 
Kestner, Miss, 37. 

Lanier, Sidney D., 258. 

"Lars," 230, 238, 255. 

Leland, Charles G., 77. 

Lincoln, President, 137-140, 157. 

Locock, Mrs., 125, 248. 

London, 44, 51. 

Longfellow, Henry, W., 147, 216. 

Ludlow, Fitz-Hugh, 77, 147. 

"Masque of the Gods," 219, 

220. 
Matthison, F., von, 237. 
McEntee, Jervis, 77, 147, 149, 155, 

157- 
Montebello, Duchess of, 125, 138. 
Montgomery, Commodore, 73, 74. 



Moscow, 122, 123. 
Mt. Cuba, 254, 255. 

Napier, Lord, 125, 127. 

Naples, 189. 

Newcomb, Simon, 21. 

New York, 58, 75, 76, 146-149, 

154, 264-273. 
"Northern Travel," 50. 

O'Brien, Fitz-James, 147. 
Oehlenschlager, 7, 41. , 
Ohio, 7 1 . 
"Ouida," 233. 

Pickens, Francis W., 133. 
"Picture of St. John," 141, 142.. 

15°. IS 1 . l6z - 
"Poet's Journal," 88, 96. 
"Prince Deukalion," 220, 257, 

259, 270. 
"Prophet," 238, 241, 243-250. 
Putnam, George P., 58, 253. 



Quakers, 62, 
255. 258. 



"93. 99. 2 3°. 



Ramsay, Lieutenant-Colonel, 226, 

227. 
Reid, Whitelaw, 212, 232. 
Reynolds, General John F., 113. 
Robinson, Dr. Edward, 79. 
Rome, 26, 27, 31, 36, 191— 193. 
Riickert, Friedrich, 103. 
Russamowsky, Countess, 134, 

J 35- 
Russell, Lord Odo, 279-283, 287, 
292. 

Salisbury, Marquis of, 277, 279, 

284, 287, 
San Francisco, 74, 75, 208-210. 
San Gemini, 35. 
Schiller, 225. 
Seeberg, 9-13, 16, 17, 39. 
Seward, William H., 127, 137—140. 
Simplon Pass, 228. 
Sorrento, 1 89-1 91. 
St. Paul, 72. 
St. Peter's, 32. 
St. Petersburg, 125-142. 
Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 77, 

109, 146, 155, 157-159, 161, 

192, 200, 219, 238. 
Stoddard, Lorimer, 146, 206. 



INDEX— Continued 



309 



Stoddard, Mrs. (Elizabeth Bar- 
stow), 59, 69, 78, 88, 97, 115, 
146, 147, 150, 155, 187. 

Stoddard, Richard Henry, 59, 69, 
77, 88, 97, 115, 147, 154, 155. 

"Story of Kennett," 161, 164. 

Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 174. 

Taylor, Annie, 42, 45, 68, 145, 

i75- 
Taylor, Bayard, 23-25, 42, 43, 

45-47. 5°. 5 2 > 55. 5 6 . 62 > 6 5> 6 9> 
7°. 73. 74, 79~ 8 5. 88, 89, 94, 96, 
100, 102—106, 108-110, 114, 
117— 121, 126—128, 132, 134, 
136-142, 145-147, 150-152, 154, 
I 55> I 59 _I 7°. 176—180, 182, 
186-188, 191-193, 195—197, 
199—205, 207—211, 213—215, 
218—220, 227, 230—250, 252, 
254-257. 259-261, 263-305. 

Taylor, Becky, 92. 

Taylor, Emma, 42—45, 60, 98, 

145. !5 6 - 
Taylor, Dr. Franklin, 92. 
Taylor, Frederick, 42, 43, 45, 6o, 

99, 109, in— 113, 117, 144. 
Taylor, Joseph, 62, 63, 199, 211, 

217. 
Taylor, Lilian, 115, 170, 190, 191, 

206, 256, 262, 264, 301. 
Taylor, Mrs. Joseph, 63, 199, 211, 

217, 274. 



Tennyson, Alfred, 173, 268. 
Thackeray, William M., 51, 78, 

no. 
Thompson, Launt, 147, 149. 
Tribune, New York, 50, 53, 100, 

IX 5. I 53. i7 6 . 2i2, 231, 233- 

236, 250, 259-261, 266, 269, 

271. 
Tupper, Martin F., 265-268. 

Venice, 184-186. 
Vienna, 233-236. 

Waddington, Prime Minister of 
France, 278, 280, 283, 289. 

War, Civil, 94-101, 108-113, 116— 
118, 153, 156, 157. 

Warner, Anna and Susan, 77, 78. 

Weimar, 238-249, 252. 

"Wetherell, Elizabeth," 78. 

Whipple, E. P., 217. 

Whittier, John G., 90, 258. 

Wight, Orlando W., 77. 

William I., Emperor of Germany, 
275, 281. 

Willis, N. P., 69, 109, 117. 

Wyse, Miss, 54, 55. 

Wyse, Sir Thomas, 54. 

Yates, Edmund, 234. 
Young, Brigham, 208, 209. 



1905 



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